Jane's Unabridged Autobiography
by poolsidenews
Summary: OC. The Unlife of a new reaper. Jane's an undead teen who still acts like one, and Rube is at the end of his rope. WARNING: This story contains corporal punishment and all kinds of other unsavory activites.  See author's notes in first chapter for details
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Thanks for reading! This is a bit of an experiment. It has taken me a long time to figure out this character's voice. I always appreciate feedback! Just as an extra warning, this story is for adults only! It contains all kinds of adult topics including sex, violence, illicit drug use, loads of expletives and the nonconsensual corporal punishment of a teenaged girl. If any of these things offend you, for Pete's sake don't read this story! Also, I do not condone the spanking of children. _

This is supposed to be an autobiography. Rube told me to write an autobiography. I asked how long. He said, "Until I tell you to stop writing." That's a typical response. I asked him where I should start. "Start with birth, work your way up to death." I told him that technically I couldn't write an autobiography, because it's supposed to be a history of my life and technically I don't have a life. He didn't say anything to that.

We just got back from the desert, and Rube is pissed at me. I thought he was going to scream at me, or beat me, or push me out of the truck, but he didn't. When Rube is really, really mad he doesn't yell or freak out. He just ignores you. It makes you feel about an inch tall. For two days of driving, he basically ignored me and listened to the radio. He only talked to me when we stopped to eat or pee or once when he had to put water in the radiator. It was like he didn't care that I was there, that I was the reason that he had to take so much time off of work and come get me in Nevada, that I had been questioned by the police. Oh yeah, and that I stole his truck and he had to pay three hundred dollars to get it out of impound. The whole time I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to start the yelling. It sucked. Then we got here and he gave me a notebook and a pen and told me to sit down. I thought he was going to make me write sentences, like the definition of "authority" or "respect", like he normally does. Instead he told me to start writing the story of my life. He's sitting at his desk right now trying to catch up on paperwork from the days he missed.

I guess I'd better look like I'm writing something.

This is so fucking pointless.

Driving across the desert was boring, but it reminded me of coming to Seattle for the first time. One day Santos handed me an envelope that had a bus ticket, an address and a name, and told me I was getting transferred. I was supposed to leave the next day. I was surprised. I knew people got transferred, but I thought it wouldn't happen to me for years and years. I had only been undead for about six months. I was also surprised to be going to Seattle of all of the places in the world. I wondered who made these kinds of decisions, and what they were based on. I mean, Lenore had been itching to be transferred overseas for years. She loves Europe and always talks about how much she wishes she lived there, but she never got transferred. I didn't wish anything like that.

Santos was really nice to me the day before I left, which surprised me. I think he didn't want me to leave mad at him. We stayed out pretty much all night. I won't write about the things we did, because it's nobody's business, and it's not like anyone's going to read this except Rube, and I already knows what he thinks of what I do for fun and I really don't feel like hearing it again. Anyway, I got on the bus at about five in the morning and I took some sleeping pills that knocked me out for about eight hours. That's pretty much what I did the whole trip. I mean, what else is there to do on a bus? Read a book? Boring. We stopped every four or six hours, but I just slept while everyone else got off and ate. When I wasn't asleep I was watching the other people on the bus. They all sucked. Some old guy tried to talk to me, but I glared at him and he gave up. I watched the scenery. Jesus, this story is turning out just as boring as the real life experience. I would write about how I liked looking at the mountains and the trees, and that it was a whole lot greener than Nevada, but everybody knows that.

We finally got to Seattle. It was raining, big surprise. I took a cab from the bus depot to the address on the envelope. It turned out that I was supposed to meet my new boss at "Der Waffle Haus", one of the kitschy 24-hour breakfast places that you see in backwards places. I'd never been in one. It wasn't too bad, but I felt like shit. I felt scummy and dirty from the bus ride. It was early Sunday morning, and no one was around except waitresses and a couple of locals sitting, drinking coffee. The bathroom was empty so I locked the door and washed up before I changed clothes. Just doing those two things made me feel a million times better. I also took a couple of oxys, that might have had something to do with it.

I was supposed to meet someone named Rube, and I didn't know what he or she was supposed to look like. So I sat in a booth and ordered some coffee, because I wasn't hungry, and I looked through some magazines I bought the day before at a gas station. That didn't last long. It was hard to sit still.

There was a couple sitting across the restaurant, and they were both wearing plaid shirts. They dude even had a big beard. Classic! I took a picture of them with my cell phone. I guess I wasn't very discreet, because they gave me a dirty look. There was another middle-aged guy sitting the next booth over from me. He had a newspaper and he was doing the crossword puzzle. I slid over to the seat closest to him and watched him fill in the little squares from over the divider.

I noticed that when I started watching him, he stopped filling in the puzzle squares. His pen moved back and forth from clue 23-down to clue 23-across, over and over. After a minute, he turned around and looked at me.

"What?" He looked annoyed.

I asked him if he was Rube. He said yes. He said, "You're Jane Raley." I said yes. He said, "You're fucking kidding me."

I doubt that anyone will ever read this, but if for anyone who does, I just want to point out to you: THAT is how I met Rube. He snapped at me because I was messing up his concentration for his precious crossword puzzle, then he was a total asshole when he found out who I was. Extremely rude, right? Now imagine that every fucking day. That's my life.

He told me to sit down in his booth with him.

"I wasn't expecting you until Tuesday."

"Well, here I am."

He asked me how old I am. Now, what the fuck does that matter? I still think that was a weird question. I mean, the DMV says that I am 21. I will always be 21. I told him as much. He just looked at me.

"You're a smart ass. That isn't going to work for me."

Again, whoever reads this: Welcome to my life.

So I told him my real age. This was in January, so I would have just turned 17, if I had still been alive. Rube looked disgusted. By this time, I was getting kind of annoyed myself. Who was this guy to act like such a jerk, without even knowing me? He told me that he knew I'd only been dead - or undead - I still get those confused - for six months, and that it was a bad sign that I had already been transferred. Then he said something like this:

"I've got to tell you Jane, I don't have a good feeling about this. You're young and you're stupid. I could probably handle those things on their own, but you also have a reputation for knowing the wrong people who do the wrong things, and you have a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm not stupid."

"You were stupid enough to try to lie to me about your age within the first thirty seconds of meeting me. Not a great way to start off a professional relationship." Rube had started doing the crossword puzzle again as he spoke.

"I didn't lie!" He didn't respond. He just kept doing his stupid puzzle. I was angry, so I grabbed newspaper and threw it to the other side of the table. I don't know what I thought he would do. I know what Santos would have done. He would have slugged me. I stared at Rube, and he stared at me. He didn't look angry. He looked like he was thinking. A waitress walked by. I didn't know her at the time, but later I met her. Her name is Kiffany. She gave us a look as she passed, like 'What are you crazy white people doing?'.

Rube picked up his paper and smoothed it out. This is the way he talks, which can be really annoying because a lot of the time it seems like he's not so much talking to you as talking at you.

"I guess this is the part when I give you a good talking-to, some guidance to impress on you the importance of doing this job well, taking pride in your work and keeping your nose clean." He paused. "To be honest, I just don't care. You do your job. I'll do my job. We'll stay out of each others' way. How does that sound?"

I didn't expect him to say that. He went back to doing his puzzle while I sat there, confused. Then he told me to leave and not come back until Tuesday. So I left.

Rube just told me to go to bed, so in conclusion: Writing sucks, my hand hurts, and Rube's an asshat. THE END.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, I am still writing this fucking thing. I got up this morning and Rube told me I need to work on my narrative technique. I told him that I don't think he's exactly qualified to be a literary critic, and that he certainly doesn't have to read it if he doesn't like it. We went to Der Waffle Haus and met the others so Rube could pass out assignments. They all looked at me like they were curious about where I'd been, except Roxy. She knows where I was and she just looked disgusted. I got some assignments but they aren't until later tonight. We came back to the apartment and Rube told me to continue from where I left off and to lay off words like 'asshat'. I said that's censorship. He said that's right. I said that his beloved Hemingway wrote plenty of offensive words in his books, and he said that he's not Hemingway's boss, he's my boss, and he's not going to argue about it. He still hasn't really yelled at me or whipped me for going back to Vegas, so I'm going to try to keep from annoying him.

My fucking hand is already starting to hurt. This is so stupid.

Living with Rube sucks. I can never do what I want, unless what I want to do happens to be reading or watching network TV with the sound turned down so low I barely hear it. And he's always watching me so he can catch me doing something wrong, so he can have something to yell at me about. I can't even smoke in here, even though he smokes a pipe. He said that cigarettes are disgusting, but that pipe smoking is an institution, and that pipe smoking is classy. I told him that I could think of something classy he could do with his pipe. I think that was the first time I made Rube laugh, even though it wasn't really a full-on laugh. It was more like a snort.

The worst part is when I do something he's told me not to do, or don't do something he's told me to do, even if it's ridiculous, like not coming home before 10pm when I don't have a reap. I mean, there's nothing to do before 10pm. All of the fun stuff starts after 10pm. He says its outright defiance, and that he won't put up with it, and then he beats the shit out of me.

That's kind of out of sequence for the story of my life, or un-life, or whatever. The physical and mental torture of living with Rube didn't start until a few weeks after I moved to Seattle. So I'll start back from where I left off.

I found a place to stay, which was surprisingly easy considering I'd never had to do that before. I went from living in my mom's house to living with Santos right after I died. I knew that some of the other reapers I worked with in Vegas would squat in their newlydead's homes. Frankly, the thought of doing that creeped me out. Being surrounded by the stuff of people who were now dead - stuff they bought or were given and that they'll never use again. Talk about depressing. Plus, the squatting reapers I knew were always getting kicked out of places and having the cops and code enforcement called and I just don't need that shit. As long as Santos wanted me around, I was fine. There were a few times that he kicked me out and I had to find someone else to stay with, but I knew people. I didn't know anyone in Seattle yet, and that was a little scary.

My experience reaping has given me some skills that occasionally come in handy. I have learned how to approach almost anyone. I'm not as good as the others, but I am getting better. I can tell by looking at someone the things I should say, the way my face should look, to get them to stop and listen. I once saw a TV show where a man pretends to be a psychic who can talk to dead people, and he uses the same kind of tricks. Look at the way they're dressed, look at their expression and body language. You can usually use those kinds of traits against people to get them to start telling you what you want to know without them even realizing it! And then you can tell them exactly what they told you, and they'll be shitting themselves like they can't believe it. Rube says that it's an art form that's been around for thousands of years, the art of the "charlatan". He's pretty good at it. I've seen him sweet talk people into doing all kinds of things, but he says he doesn't like to do it. Go figure. If I had that kind of power over people, I'd never work again. Not that he does. I actually don't know how Rube makes money. I'll ask him some time when he's talking to me again.

Anyway, when I was looking for a place I went to all of the places that I am now forbidden to go. I went to the worst, scariest, red-neckiest bars I could find because I knew I would be able to find the kind of guy there who would be happy to let me use his property for free. I had money. I just didn't see the point in spending it if I didn't have to. I did meet some guys there, a couple of which would have been happy to take me home to their trailers but I was holding out for something better. I eventually found it, a 23 year old guy named Matt who had an apartment on the bus line and willing to let me sleep at his apartment in exchange for doing some things that it isn't really important to mention.

Matt's apartment is a shithole. I hope by now he's living someplace better, but I am sure he's probably still there.

The next day I met more people and I made connections. I bought some perco-pops from a neighbor of his. I'm sure that won't come as a surprise to Rube. I take fucking pills, get over it. Matt likes meth, which I don't like, so he was smoking that and he started acting like a prick so I locked him out of the bedroom and watched TV until I fell asleep.

Tuesday morning I was coming down from the day before but I went to DWH anyway. I'm not stupid. When you're a reaper, you don't call in sick. For one thing, you don't get sick, thanks to your undead metabolism. For another thing, there are the gravelings that will try to kill you permanently if you don't do your job. Besides, I hadn't met any other reapers yet, besides Rube, and I was really curious as to whether they were all assholes like him or if they were nice.

I showed up and Rube was there, eating pancakes like a normal person. He was sitting with Mason, who I thought was kind of cute. Then he spoke, and I was like, oh no this guy is kind of stupid. But I forgave him, because I love British men. The accent is hot! I remember meeting George, who was initially suspicious of me, I think. I met Daisy, who I didn't care for at first. I didn't meet Roxy until later. Rube gave us our assignments. I remember thinking that it was really funny that he wrote things down on post-its. Paper, really? I showed him my cell phone and asked if he'd heard of text messaging. He just told me not to fuck up.

Mason offered to show me around, and I wasn't about to decline. George didn't come because she has a job, which I thought was kind of dumb. There are plenty of ways to get money without having a job. Mason was a lot of fun, and since my reap wasn't until that evening, we just kind of hung out together and talked. He showed me around his favorite part of town. We went to a used DVD store, and we looked through the racks. I love horror movies, so I was on the look out for something that I hadn't seen yet, which is like impossible to find. Then we went out to eat, then we went someplace to drink. I thought it was still early, but when I looked at my watch I realized that I was going to be late to my reap.

I did not want to be late to my first reap. Well, any reap, really, but especially not my first. What kind of a loser is late to their first reap? It was an intersection, and it was only a few blocks away, so I ran. I got there, and I looked at the post-it for the name of the person I was supposed to reap. K. Dixon. When you're a reaper, you learn a few tricks. Not just the psychological tricks that I wrote about earlier, but observational tricks, too. You have a few seconds to reap a soul before something horrible and fatal happens to the body it's inhabiting, so what do you do? You look around, and you keep an open mind.

But thankfully your reap is probably going to be pretty obvious. If it looks like someone is about to fall off a ladder, they're probably going to fall off a ladder. Not that there were any ladders involved here. It's just an example.

There were half a dozen people standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street without getting run over by the rush-hour traffic. I looked at my watch. 5:15. I looked at the post-it. 5:15. I didn't have time to be delicate, so I did the only thing I thought I could do.

"K. Dixon!" I shouted. Everyone turned around, as people are going to do when you shout something from a few feet behind them. "Shit."

Suddenly, I saw something. On the other side of the street, a middle aged woman in a business suit looked one way, then jogged out into the middle of the intersection. She didn't see the SUV coming around the corner. What happened next is kind of a blur. I didn't really think about it, I just sprinted through the small crowd of people, off the curb and right into oncoming traffic. A car swerved to avoid me and slammed into another, coming the other way. I managed to reach out and brush the startled woman's arm right before the SUV collided with her body. I fell, and hoped that no one would run me over as I jumped to my feet. There was a lot of screaming and crying and honking, and someone was yelling for someone else to call 911. I was relieved. I had made the mark just in time. Her soul was standing on the other side of the street, watching all of the commotion with a puzzled look on her face.

Someone was yelling at me to get out of the road. I noticed the woman's purse, which had flown off of her arm when the SUV hit her. It was lying right at my feet. If I had known that someone was watching me, I wouldn't have taken it. But I didn't know that, and I am no fool. I grabbed it and I ran.

Enough. My hand hurts. I am taking a break.


	3. Chapter 3

Rube is still pissed at me. I asked him how long he was going to stay mad at me, and he looked at me like I had two heads. He said, "You stole from me, you disobeyed me, and you put everyone who should matter to you in jeopardy by acting like an impulsive teenager. How long do you think I'm going to stay mad at you?"

I felt like I wanted to explain why I did what I did, but I couldn't think of anything to say. So I said, "Well, why don't you just beat me and get over it?"

A really weird look came over his face, like a look of total disgust. "Kid, I'm so angry that I don't trust myself to spank you right now. I think I'd probably break your neck." Then he got up and went into the bathroom 'to think'.

Whatever. It's not like he's never been mad at me before. I don't really think it's fair that he doesn't even care why I did it. I mean, he asked me why when he came to Las Vegas to get me, but I was distracted, so of course I didn't have a very good answer. He's still insisting that I write in this thing, so I guess I'll pick up where I left off yesterday.

So I stole K. Dixon's purse on my first reap in the new town, which wouldn't have been so bad except I had like a dozen witnesses who actually gave pretty good eyewitness descriptions. Not only that, but one of them swore he saw me push this Dixon woman into the street, which was ridiculous since we were on opposite sides of the intersection, but whatever. So now I had a police bulletin out with a pretty good drawing of me, that I was wanted for questioning. Rube was livid about it.

That was actually how I met Roxy. I came into DWH the next day, and Roxy and Rube were sitting in the booth talking about something. I had just woken up and I wasn't feeling my greatest. This was my intro to Roxy, the cop, dressed up in

her blues and looking like she wanted to break me in half. For such a small woman, she can be really fucking terrifying.

As soon as I sat down, Rube shoves this bulletin in my face. He told me to lay low for a few weeks, gave me a post-it, and then he got up and walked out. Roxy glared at me.

"Well, that wasn't too bad." I folded up the bulletin and shoved it in my jacket pocket.

"Girl, you'd better get your shit together." Roxy said. "This act of yours is not going over very well."

"What act?" Kiffany came over and asked if I wanted anything, and I said no.

"Smartass new kid, bad enough to take anyone on, steals from dead people in broad daylight... You want me to go on? You are not as bad as you think you are. This act is bullshit, and it's not cute. The sooner you cut it out, the better off you'll be."

"What the fuck do you know?"

Roxy stood up and put her cap on. She looked badass in her uniform with her gun in her hip holster. I was a little jealous. "Let's just say I have the benefit of experience and leave it the fuck at that. I can't make this little problem go away, so you'd better watch yourself."

Then she left.

The funny part is that there was only 36 dollars in that purse. I threw the credit cards away. I'm no idiot.

Laying low is boring. I couldn't go anywhere or talk to anyone. I just slept and watched TV in Matt's shithole of an apartment. He was stealing cable from someone, but even that got boring after a while. Mason convinced me to come over to his place and hang out. I found out that he was living in the same house as Daisy and George, and I thought that was fucked up. It was, like, incestuous. Everyone was just so uncomfortable around each other. I could tell that Mason liked Daisy and that Daisy liked Mason, but they acted like they hated each other. George was stuck in the middle of that mess, and I did not envy her.

We watched The Legend of Boggy Creek, which Mason had never seen before (I just couldn't believe it... It's a classic!). Someday I want to go to Arkansas and talk to the people in the movie and find out what was real and what wasn't real. Bigfoot is just crazy. I am not sure if I believe in it or not. I mean, it sounds unbelievable but if someone had told me that I would die and become a grim reaper I don't think I would have believed that either. We were also smoking, which made the experience all the more interesting. We were having a good time when George came in looking all upset about something.

Let me just say something about George here. I like the girl okay, but Jesus Fucking Christ I have never met anyone who could get so worked up over the most mundane shit. I mean, her parents got divorced, boo hoo. It's not like she can even see them ever again anyway. It's always something like that. Her day job sucks, or her mom sold her childhood home, or someone looked at her cross-eyed. This time she was crying because she ran into some guy she fucked who never called her again and it turns out he doesn't like her. Big surprise!

Also, she was really freaked out because she got a weird note at work. The note said something like "I know who you are" - really vague spooky shit. I told her it was someone fucking with her, but she thought it was someone who knew she was a reaper. Mason and I doubted that. I offered her a hit off the pipe, but she just ran upstairs all upset. Mason followed her, and I fell asleep after a while.

I woke up at about two in the morning when Daisy came in and shook me. She told me I looked like shit. I said, gee, thanks, and she handed me a wig.

Turns out I had a reap and Daisy had been sent along to keep an eye on me. Knowing Daisy like I know her now, Rube must have been pretty desperate to send her along with me. Daisy is anything but reliable. She had a whole disguise worked out for me, in case anyone would have recognized me from the police bulletin. She was really into the secret agent shit. By the time she was done with me, I looked like a super strung-out version of Jennifer Garner's character from Alias. I kind of liked it.

Our reap was in a gas station near the airport. It was really early in the morning, like three o'clock. We borrowed George's car and sat across the street in the freezing fucking cold, just staring at that fucking gas station. The reason we were waiting was because my intended target was named J. Kessler, and the only person in the place was the guy behind the counter, and he was Korean. It follows that he wasn't our guy.

Daisy was babbling about some play she auditioned for, and how the director had basically told her that if she sucked his cock she'd get the part, and that pissed Daisy off.

"I got the same offer from Mr. D.W. Griffith in 1929; do you know who that is? I was a perfectly delectable 21 years old, and he said that I had the prettiest mouth he'd ever seen. And if I didn't take him up on it after he said something like that, a giant of the film industry who obviously had excellent taste, what makes this community theatre clown think that I'm going to take him up on his offer of Hennessy and some non-reciprocal oral sex? I love to act, don't get me wrong, but if I blew every small time director who asked me to, I'd never have time for anything else."

Daisy cracks me up.

She got a phone call, so she waited in the car while I went into the gas station by myself with a minute to spare and still no J. Kessler in sight. I thought about asking the Korean dude if he was J. Kessler after all, but he was looking at me really suspiciously so I just pretended to look at road maps and waited. Finally another car pulled up to the doors, tires squealing. Headlights blazed through the glass front wall, and someone jumped out of the driver's side and came running into the store. I could tell it was my guy, and I could tell things were about to get really fucked up.

Everything was kind of a blur. I could see right away that Kessler was carrying a handgun, and so could the Korean. He had much better reflexes than I did. He ducked behind the counter even before Kessler started screaming to give him the money. I didn't get on the floor until he turned and pointed the thing at me. I just about pissed my pants.

It was when he was pointing at me that the Korean reached for his own gun. It was so fast, I almost didn't have time to react. I know what I didn't want to happen. I didn't want Kessler to get blown away before I had the chance to reap his soul. Have you ever had to reap someone who's already been killed? It is fucked up. All they can think about is the pain of dying (dying hurts, by the way, at least most ways to die that I know of) and they're so freaked out it takes hours, sometimes days, to get them to the place where they can move along to their pretty lights. The last thing I wanted was to stay up all night with a gas station robber with a gaping hole in his chest, right? So I did the only thing I could reasonably think of to do. I ran for him.

I guess I'll have to hold off on the exciting conclusion of how I managed to spectacularly fuck this up. I'm still pulling double shifts to make up for the days I missed, and I have a reap in twenty minutes. Rube is yelling at me to get going.


	4. Chapter 4

This morning when I woke up there was a book on my pillow. It's called Bigfoot Exposed, by some scientist who is trying to figure out if Bigfoot is for real or not. I guess Rube doesn't hate me too much. I tried to ask him about it and he told me to let him know when I finished it. He probably wants to ask me a bunch of questions to prove that I read it. He's always looking for ways to catch me lying or cheating or just being myself. And when I try to just talk to him like a normal person he gets all weird. Like, I would say thanks for the book, but he'll act annoyed and tell me to eat my breakfast and stop playing with my food. So I'll just say thanks for the book here, since he's reading my innermost thoughts anyway. THANKS FOR THE BOOK, RUBE! I HOPE IT DOESN'T SUCK!

Rube did surprise me by saying that he was impressed that I knew how to use a semicolon. I was like, whatever, I'm not illiterate. I was in honors English class last year.

I could have used a book last night. I had the most boring fucking reap of all time. Carbon monoxide. Nothing happens for hours, you just sit and wait and look at the poor sap through their bedroom window as they're doing yoga or watching the news or whatever and then all of a sudden you have a newlydead standing there blinking at you.

Speaking of newlydeads, so I was in the middle of the story of that crazy gas station robber and the Korean gas station guy who pulled out a huge fucking gun on the robber. It was just like a Quentin Tarantino movie. There was a weird second where I wasn't sure what was going to happen, and then I ran at the robber - Kessler - funny how I remember some people's names - and I tackled him around the knees. I don't know what I thought would happen, but as I brought him down he shot me. Right through the back.

Just because I'm undead and I have a really fast metabolism and I can heal quicker than normal doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt when someone shoots you in the back, because it does. It hurts. It really fucking hurts to be shot in the back. Even so, I was able to reap the guy before the Korean raised his shotgun, leaned over the counter and blew a huge hole in Kessler's face. It was disgusting. Pieces of Kessler splattered all over the place and he fell to the floor, me still holding his legs. The Korean guy was screaming, cursing, in some language that I guess in Korean, and I guess he thought I was dead or something because he got really freaked out when I started to stand up. I tried to ignore him and I used Kessler's dead body to push myself up. I was bleeding all over the place, and I slipped in a puddle of what could have been my blood or Kessler's blood or both mixed together. Kessler's soul was standing there looking at me, and its funny how crazy people don't look so crazy anymore after they're dead. It's like everyone gets one moment of clarity after they died, if their soul wasn't traumatized too badly. That's why I feel like I have to grab the soul in time, no matter what.

"Is that me?" He was looking at his mostly faceless body.

"Yeah." I stumbled to the door and he followed me.

"Am I dead?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I shot you."

"Yeah." I heard police sirens in the distance as I made my way across the parking lot, across the street and toward Daisy, who was still sitting in the car chatting to whatever horny asshole that had called her at three in the morning. The Korean must have had a silent alarm. I wondered if Roxy was in one of those cars. Daisy saw me coming and started the car.

"Listen," I said to Kessler. My voice was wheezy. "I have to go, and I'm sorry." I took a deep breath, the first one I could remember taking since the whole thing began. It was painful. "You need to stay here and watch for your lights." He looked like he really didn't understand what I was talking about, but he nodded.

We peeled out of there with the headlights off and sped down the highway. Daisy had hung up her cell and looked weirdly grim as she drove. I asked her to take me to Matt's. While we drove I tried to smoke a cigarette and I realized that smoke was coming out of my back through the bullet hole. That was weird.

Matt wasn't home, which was just fine with me. Daisy left me there and I did my best to clean myself up. I stripped down to my shirt and panties, took three or four perco-pops and fell asleep on the futon in the living room.

I woke up because someone was pounding on the door. I couldn't figure out what was going on for a minute. I tried answering my cell phone but of course that didn't do any good. I finally figured it out and stumbled to the door. I thought maybe Matt had locked himself out, so I didn't bother to put on my pants. I opened the door and I was surprised to see Rube. It didn't occur to me at that point to be self conscious even though I was half naked. I just wanted him to stop pounding. It wasn't quite light outside, and it was still early enough to wake up the neighbors, so I let him in and told him to keep it the fuck down. He was not in the mood to be told to keep it the fuck down.

"You live here?" He looked around critically at the mess. I was suddenly very self conscious of the apartment, which didn't make sense. I mean, it's not like it was my place. I wasn't responsible for it.

"Yeah."

"This place is a fucking dump."

He was right for a change.

"What do you want?"

"I heard you got shot."

"Yeah. The guy you sent me to reap was a crazy motherfucking robber." I said accusingly.

Rube glared at me. "I heard you got shot because you were trying to be some kind of daredevil. That's not exactly keeping a low profile. What did you think you were doing?"

I stared at him, feeling woozy. "What?"

"Daisy told me that she saw you lunge at the guy after he pointed the gun at you. You want to explain what exactly you were thinking?"

I could barely remember what happened a few hours ago. I shook my head. I just said that I knew he was going to bite it, and I had to get his soul before he did so I did what I had to do. It didn't matter anyway, it's not like I could have gotten killed.

"It's not you I'm worried about! What if he'd decided to shoot you through the head? It'd be kind of hard to explain to the paramedics how you're walking around all bushy-tailed with pieces of your brain on your sweater. Let me tell you something." Rube got real close to my face then, so close that I could smell the pipe tobacco he smokes. "Sometimes you just have to let nature take its course. Give the stiffs some perspective on life and death. They're going to die whether you reap the soul first or not."

I was... whatever the word is when someone's opinion pisses you off. Offended. I had never let anyone die without reaping them first, and I wasn't about to start. He used a blackjack analogy: always double down on eleven, and always back off when someone points a gun at you. I told him that I was not about to let someone get their face blown off without popping the soul out, and he told me that it wasn't up for debate, and that I was going to have to start just doing as I was told.

I started arguing again, and then I started coughing. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and when I wiped my mouth with my hand there was blood on it. Rube nodded at me and asked me if it hurt.

"Yeah."

"Let me see."

I stared at him. I was not going to lift my shirt for him. Pervert.

"Come on, maybe I can get the bullet out."

I told him that it was okay, that I had it under control and that he'd better leave before my boyfriend got back. He raised his eyebrows at that. I suddenly realized that I wasn't wearing pants. I looked around and found them in a crumpled heap on the floor, and I hurried to put them on as Rube watched. It took me a little longer than it normally would have because it hurt to bend over and it hurt to stand up straight, and it really hurt to try and pull my jeans up over my legs. Rube surprised me by coming around behind me and putting his hand on my waist. He grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled them up over my hips. He grabbed me by the shoulders and held me still while he looked at the bullet hole in the back of my shirt.

"That looks like it stings. Probably tore out a chunk of lung with it."

I shrugged him off of me and turned around. Then he asked if I was hungry and did I want to go get some breakfast. I couldn't believe it. I was like, listen, thanks for the offer but I really don't think that I wanted to go out for pancakes. He asked why not, and I said that it was a really nice gesture, but that we weren't going to be friends because he was an asshole. He seemed to think that was pretty funny.

"I'm an asshole."

"Yes you are! I don't know what you think being nice is, but since I've been here you've barely spoken to me. Or when you have, you've just been a jerk."

"It's not my job to be nice to you."

I told him that in that case there was no reason for him to be there, and that he really needed to be going. Rube cocked his head at me and looked kind of thoughtful, like he was trying to figure something out. He looks like that a lot when he's talking to me.

"You're right, I haven't been as friendly as I could have been. Frankly, I don't care. My only concern is to make sure you do what you're supposed to do. Niceness doesn't enter into it."

"So what are we doing here?"

"I just wanted to let you know what kind of opportunity you have here."

"What kind of opportunity?"

"That's up to you."

I told him he was being cryptic and weird. Rube said do you want me to spell it out for you? And I said yes.

"As far as everyone else is concerned right now, you're disposable. No one knows you; no one wants to know you, because you're such a fucking mess. You've been here long enough to make some friends, and I don't see that happening. You managed to con some guy into letting you stay with him, but how long do you think that will last? What are your plans? Who do you talk to?"

"I know people."

"You know Mason. Let me give you a little friendly advice: Mason is not the ally you need right now."

I was really getting mad, so I told him to get the fuck out in the nicest way possible. I even opened the door for him and stood there waiting while he walked over.

"Look," I said. "I appreciate the concern." I coughed again and wiped the gross dark blood on the leg of my jeans. "But you really don't need to worry about me."

"I'm not worried." He stood in the doorway and looked at me. "I just thought I would give you fair warning."

I asked him what he was talking about, and he just looked at me.

"Get your shit together. That's all." He left. I slammed the door and went back to sleep and I didn't really think about it anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

If anyone ever asked me what being a reaper was like, I guess I would just have to say that it's a lot like being alive, except that nothing surprises me any more. Blood. Guts. Upset dead people. Calm dead people. Laughing dead people. Whatever. This is unpredictable work. I never know how the newlydead is going to end up kicking off, and I never know how they'll act once they're dead. Most people are pretty nice, before and after. Sure, no one wants to die, but everyone has to and if you don't see it coming I guess it's not too bad. My most memorable reap (except for getting shot) was my first reap. I reaped a librarian in her mid-fifties who was very unhappy that I touched her shoulder when I took her soul. She took it as a threat, and I walked away holding three of my teeth. I stuck them back in and they're fine now. It's like that - something falls off or out, and you just stick it back on or in and keep going.

One of my friends back in Vegas, Brook, told me that he worked out that we undead heal about 20 times faster than the living. I guess that's about right. However that works, I guess it's the same reason that I have to drink so much more to get a buzz on than the living, but at the same time I feel pain just the same as the living. I don't think that's fair. I think that if I have a job that means I get shot at and shit, I should be able to get shot without it hurting. I would be much better at my job in that case. I'd be unstoppable, like the Terminator. Or some kind of soul-reaping zombie.

I'm rambling... If it's possible to ramble while writing? I had to look back to remember where I was in the story of my un-life. I bet he would like it if I started over and began at the actual beginning, like "I was born on December 12, 1987 in Bishop California, and it was all downhill from there." Rube would eat that shit up. Oh, this explains why Jane is so fucked up! Her mom worked outside the home, her dad left when she was two, her dog ran away, no one ever loved her! Yeah, well fuck that, I'll write about whatever I want.

It only took me about a day to get back on my feet after getting shot. I remember Rube warning me to get my shit together, but he didn't really tell me why. Like, what would happen if I didn't? I made the reaps, I did my job, even if things got a little messy. As long as I make the reaps no one could touch me.

I guess what Rube was trying to tell me was supposed to keep what happened next from happening, but how was I supposed to know that?

I was feeling pretty good. The other reapers were quiet around me at Der Waffle Haus, probably because I'd proven myself to be too crazy to fuck with. I had my perco-pops and my oxys, and no one hassled me. I liked it that way. A few days after I'd been shot I had another reap down at some docks near Tacoma Junction. Apparently, Rube wasn't worried about sending me to do this one alone, maybe because it was during daylight.

I didn't realize how desolate this place by the docks was until I was already there. It was nearly deserted even though it was early evening rush hour in the rest of the city. I can kind of remember what happened next, but it's pretty fuzzy. I stood in the doorway of a warehouse and lit a cigarette. Someone came up behind me and asked for one. When I was turning around I got clubbed in the head with something, which didn't knock me out but hurt like shit. I fell over and got hit again. Then I guess I passed out. It was so fast.

This is the creepy part: I woke up in a bed, wearing pajamas that did not belong to me and were too big. I didn't know where I was. That is a really scary fucking feeling. At first I thought I was back at Matt's, but it was too quiet and the bed was too comfortable. I looked around. The room I was in was a little, narrow room full of crates and boxes, and some furniture covered in a drop cloth. I could see by the light of a tall lamp that was by a closed door, which was good because when I sat up I could see by a window that it was night outside and as weird as it was to wake up in a strange place after being attacked in an alley, it would have been ten times as weird to wake up in a strange place in the dark. And I don't really like the dark.

My head was killing me, and there was a huge tender spot on the back of my skull. As soon as I sat up I felt dizzy and it was a few minutes before I was able to get out of bed. I tripped on a box and ended up on my ass. I guess I made a lot of noise because I heard footsteps and the door opened, and there was Rube. He just looked at me.

"You're awake. How do you feel?"

I told him I was thirsty, and he disappeared back into the hallway for a few seconds and came back with a glass of water. He reached down to help me up, and I sat back down on the bed. My head was spinning. I sipped the water and we stared at each other for a couple of minutes. After a while I asked him what happened. He just raised his eyebrows and said that he hoped I could tell him. I asked him if this was his place, and he said yes. Then I asked where my clothes were, and he said that he "threw them down the garbage chute". That confused me.

He said that it had been a day and a half since my reap in Tacoma Junction. I didn't show up after the reap and everyone wondered what happened to me. Rube figured that I got tired of reaping and went home. Nice, right? Mason thought something was wrong, probably because I had paid him in advance for an ounce and a half of weed and he didn't think that I just wouldn't show up to collect it (Rube didn't know that, but I guess he knows now. Oh well).

Anyway, Mason went looking for me at Tacoma Junction, and he found me a couple of blocks from the address of my reap, unconscious, in a dumpster with a dead woman. She and I had both been bashed over the head with something. Mason said it was disgusting, which is big coming from him, since he's been reaping for like forty years. He said I reeked pretty badly, which I guess makes sense but is still kind of rude to say. He had no idea what to do with me, so he brought me to Rube's apartment. I can imagine how much that pissed him off. He wanted nothing to do with me and here I was on his doorstep, bashed and bloody and smelling like a dead body.

So, Rube said casually, he gave me a bath and put me in bed and waited to see when I would wake up. I suddenly realized what that meant. It meant that he not only saw me naked, but he really had to scrub me to get that smell off. The stink of dead bodies gets everywhere - in your hair, in your skin. It's gross, and it takes forever to get off. That is creepy, but my head hurt like crazy so I didn't worry about creepy right then.

Rube asked me if I had to make. Make what? Who says that?

"The can. Do you have to go to the can?"

He had to help me walk to the bathroom because my legs were shaking. It was just across the hall from the bedroom. This apartment was really something the first time I saw it. It's tiny and full of dusty antiques and boxes of stuff. They're stacked up in the hallway, stacked up in the ancient untouched kitchen and crammed in the hall closet. I have no idea what's in most of them. I thought about asking him what was in them while I was peeing. He was standing right outside the door, I don't know... guarding? Listening for me to fall off the toilet, or maybe try to climb out the window? I couldn't make myself talk to him through the bathroom door. It's just not me, I guess. I checked myself out in the mirror and admired the big fading bruise on the side of my face. It was weird to think that a few hours before, I had been totally out of it and Rube gave me a bath in the bathtub like some kind of kid.

After I "made", Rube led me back toward the bedroom and told me to get back into bed. I told him I was fine, that I would just get my clothes and go. He told me that wasn't going to happen, I asked why, and he said just get in the fucking bed. I didn't really feel like arguing. He also brought me some tylenol, which I just looked at. I mean, what am I supposed to do with that, grind it up and smoke it?

He asked me if I was hungry. I said no. Rube always asks you that before he chews you out or gives you bad news. This is when we had "the talk". I happen to have a great memory. I can remember every word anyone says to me, usually, and I can definitely remember this conversation.

He started. "I don't need to tell you that you really fucked up, do I?"

I said I didn't know what he was talking about.

Rube was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed. He looked annoyed. "Do you remember the last conversation we had?"

"Oh yeah. Get my shit together." I had to laugh. This whole thing was so fucked up. It was almost funny.

"You think I was joking? You think its fun for me to have your sorry ass show up here in the middle of the night, stinking like that? Mason should have left you there to rot with yesterday's trash. Here's what I don't understand. I know that I have made myself very clear as to what is expected of you here. I give you the post-it, you make the reap, and the next day we do it all over again. What I don't understand is how you have managed to fuck up that very simple process over and over again."

I was indignant. I mean, someone tried to kill me. How was it my fault that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time? HE was the one who sent me on that reap, after all, I reminded him.

He looked at me. One thing that I like about Rube is that I can always tell what he's thinking. He's scrutible. (I heard someone say that on the radio and I thought it was an awesome word). Just then, I scrutinized that he was ready to finish what had been started down at Tacoma Junction.

"I don't understand you," He said. "But you seem to have a problem with authority. Which means that I have a problem with you.

"Here is what you're going to do. You're going to show up at Der Waffle Haus in the morning, and you're going to apologize to Mason for making him search all over town for you. Then you're going to take your post-it and you're going to show up early for your reap. You're going to reap your soul, and then you're going to do it all over again the next day. You're going to do this every day until one of us isn't here anymore. You're going to cut the bullshit and do as you're told. Do you understand?"

I thought about it for a second. Then I told him that I was pretty much going to keep doing things the way I wanted to do them.

Rube looked like he was trying not to leap across the room and kill me. "I don't think so. You see, you have a responsibility, the weight of which you don't seem to comprehend. When you fuck up, people suffer. So far it's been the rest of us that have had to suffer because of you, but from now on you're the one who's going to be suffering for your own mistakes."

"Uh, hello? You think I'm not suffering? Have you seen my face?"

"Didn't make much of an impression, did it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look at you. You think you're real fucking tough. You'd jump in front of a train if you thought it would make your job easier, but you have no concept of how your behavior affects others."

"I know that everything I do pisses _you_ off."

"Here's your last warning." He looked serious. "Do not test me. If I tell you to do something, you'd better do it."

I rolled over on my side and propped myself up on an elbow. My head throbbed. "Or what? You'll put me back in the trash?"

"No." He looked at me for a second. "I'll give you a whipping."

When I was in fifth grade, my class took a field trip to the mission in San Fernando. I had never been more than twenty miles away from home before, so I thought it was pretty awesome. I remember that they had a display set up to show what life was like for one of the natives who had to live at the mission. They were basically slaves, and almost all of them died because they got smallpox from the Spanish or because they starved or crushed by adobe blocks or whatever, and life pretty much sucked. They had one painting that showed a soldier whipping an Indian who was wearing a loincloth and bleeding all over the place. I remember being equally freaked out and fascinated by that. I guess that's what occurred to me when Rube said he'd whip me.

"What? Like with a whip?"

Rube closed his eyes and rubbed the side of his face. "That's an idea. I'll pick one up next time I'm at Kmart. I was actually thinking of using a belt."

I got it. "Like a spanking."

He just nodded and looked at me.

That shut me up. I mean, how is someone supposed to respond to that? A spanking? Seriously? Since I died I've been stabbed, shot, bludgeoned, choked, punched in the face, and now buried under trash. Being threatened with a spanking was kind of unexpected, but it wasn't really scary. More… odd. It made my stomach feel funny. I didn't know what to say. That was the end of the conversation, I guess. Rube told me to try to get some more sleep, that we had to be at the Haus in a few hours. He left and closed the door. I couldn't sleep. I was too on edge, thinking about everything that had happened and what Rube said. It was all pretty freaky, but I had no idea how fucked up things were going to become.


	6. Chapter 6

Here's a list of things I have done or said in the last twenty four hours that have annoyed and offended Rube. I got to hear all about it over breakfast.

1. He is offended that I was so skeeved out by the fact that he had me naked in a bathtub while I was unconscious. Well, excuse me, Rube, I really didn't realize at the time that your libido like dried up and fell off a hundred years ago.

2. He didn't know that the only reason Mason was interested in finding me in the first place was that he was going to sell me drugs.

3. And to top it all off, he still can't believe what a picky eater I am.

I think being bitched at over my cereal was the most he's talked to me in a week.

Oh, also, he said that I'm no good at writing place - he said that I described his apartment like some cluttered hole, like the basement of the salvation army. I told him that it is a cluttered hole, and why does he keep all of this shit anyway? Some of these boxes look like they haven't been opened in twenty years. Plus it's not like anyone will ever read this anyway, except for him. He just went back to not speaking to me again and read his newspaper instead. Since I just want to get this stupid thing done with, I will now proceed with describing this place in detail, and maybe he'll just drop it.

Rube lives on the fifth floor of this old building in Ballard, which is a neighborhood full of old Swedish people who drive like six miles per hour. There's this old elevator with a brass doors that look like they've never been polished. Everything in this building is just old and run down, and I don't know why Rube lives here except that he's probably been living here for like fifty years and everyone knows he hates change. There's one big room that has all of Rube's stuff in it, like his bed and a desk and his TV and all of this other stuff that's usually covered with a drop cloth. There's a hallway with the bathroom, my room, and a tiny little kitchen that is stuffed from floor to ceiling with boxes of stuff. You can't even see the stove. When Rube cooks, he cooks on a hot pot in his room. I asked him once why he didn't use the kitchen, and he said that the kitchen was added in the seventies, and that is was full of asbestos and fuck ugly vinyl flooring, and that it was a total abomination. I asked why he didn't just renovate, and he looked at me like that was the stupidest question he'd ever heard.

So Rube collects all of this junk that he won't get rid of, and he's totally obsessive about it. Oh wait, here's the best part. He's got fifteen pairs of white sneakers lined up against the wall by the front door. I am not kidding. Fifteen. So there's the description that you've been waiting for, Rube. Your house is a depressing, cluttered hole, and you have way too much stuff.

The morning after I woke up in this place, I had a better idea of what was going on, and it started to occur to me that what was going on was pretty weird.

Rube woke me up and told me to get dressed. He threw a duffel bag full of my clothes at me. I asked him how he got my clothes, and he told me that when Mason had shown up at Matt's looking for me, Matt called me a whore and threw my shit out the window. Nice. I couldn't find my wallet or cell phone, and when I asked Rube where they were he said that they were probably with whoever clubbed me and left me in the dumpster.

That was a problem. Not my wallet - Cash is just cash, and it's easy enough to get more - Santos gave me that phone, and we had a deal. I don't really feel like getting into it here. The basic idea was that he would call, and I answered. I always answered. I didn't want to think about what would happen if he called and I didn't answer. It never crossed my mind to not answer. I mean, it's Santos. No one ignores him.

I said that maybe I could call my phone and offer to buy it back from whoever had it. Rube said to forget it. Well, not exactly. He said, "That's a bad idea." But he didn't say "don't do it".

Anyway, after I got dressed which wasn't easy since everything was inside out and some of it wasn't even mine, and I found my shoes, which still smelled like dead body, we left. We got in Rube's truck and I thought we were going to Der Waffle Haus, but after about fifteen minutes of driving we pulled up in front of the DMV. That made sense. Since my wallet was gone I needed a new driver's license. The DMV is for dead people like the I guess that old image of the beauty parlor is for the living, someplace to hear gossip and bitch about your friends. The living don't know it, but almost everyone who works at the DMV is undead, and they have all day to stand around talking about other undead people and bitching about them to each other. So when you get there, the undead person behind the counter wants to gossip and find out all your business so she can talk about you behind your back about how you slept with someone she used to sleep with.

The DMV bitches, they love Rube. All middle aged cows do. I think it's because he's so... clean? Punctual? Boring? I don't know. He bathes on a regular basis (I know, unfortunate as I am to have seen him in his bathrobe), he shaves, he knows how to dress himself, and he always has money. Plus he's really fucking nice to them, saying things like, "Good morning" and "Please". Even when he's insulting he's nice, like when politely says he's not interested in going to the movies with them.

I got out of there as fast as I could, because I did not want to start the merry go round of where I was from and who I knew (slept with) that they might know (be sleeping with). It wasn't until we were out in the parking lot again and I was looking at my ID that I noticed something. On my Nevada card I was Juliana Thompson, 21 years old, of Davis Street. I liked being Juliana. Juliana was sexy and sophisticated. On this ID I was Astrid Ingegaard, age 18. First, I was like, what kind of name is Astrid Ingegaard? Definitely not sexy. Then, I noticed the birthdate.

"Hey. This says I won't be 21 until 2008."

"That's right. A little negative reinforcement to help you keep your nose clean. Maybe you straighten up, maybe you'll be treated like a grown-up."

I glared at him. And then I noticed the address. Fucking Ballard Street! I pointed it out.

"That's my place."

"Your place?"

"You'll be bunking with me until you decide that the rules apply to you."

I went kind of crazy then. I yelled and swore, and called Rube a lot of names. People in the parking lot stopped and stared. Rube grabbed me by the arm and got really close to my face. I hadn't realized before that I was almost as tall as he was. He didn't have to crouch down much.

"Have you forgotten what we talked about last night?" He hissed.

I twisted my arm, trying to get away, but he was holding me really tight. I said, "What, you're going to beat me up here? In front of all of these people?" I started yelling for help.

Rube dropped me like a hot rock and took a step back. He glanced around at the people, smiling calmly. He said through his teeth, "Get in the truck."

I laughed at him.

"You either get in the fucking truck, or can I leave without you and find someone else to reap your souls. You know what happens when you don't reap your souls, Jane?"

I stopped laughing.

Rube kept talking through his teeth. "You really want to find out how tough you are against the gravelings? I knew a guy in natural causes a few years ago, Frank, decided he didn't want to reap souls anymore. You know what happened to him? You know any gravelings that answer to Frank? I do."

I felt sick. Rube was wiling to throw me to the gravelings to get me to toe his stupid line. How fucked up is that. After a moment I got in the truck, and then Rube got in. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes before he spoke. It was like he was reading my mind.

"If you don't want to find out what it's like first hand, you'd better fall the fuck in line."

"That's blackmail!" I said.

"No, it's extortion. Do you know what the difference is?"

He's so condescending. I said that obviously I didn't know what the fucking difference was. He said to watch my fucking tone of voice, and then he started the truck and peeled out of the parking lot toward Der Waffle Haus. The rest of the day was unpleasant. I was pissed. We went to meet the others, and I found George in just as pissy a mood as I was, because she thought she was still getting harassed at work. I did not have time for that drama.

Mason was really sorry for taking me to Rube's, and he slipped me my weed when Rube was in the can. Roxy showed up looking smug that I was there. She was just eating up my misery. I was really scared all of a sudden that Rube was going to tell her what he'd threatened to do to me. She would have loved that. Roxy is a total sadist, no matter what she says.

I didn't have a reap that day. I had to join Rube on his reap that afternoon, which was in a salmon canning plant and so boring I almost died. I smoked a cigarette and watched while Rube reaped his soul, some poor fucker who got crushed by a forklift that was lifting pallets of frozen salmon guts. Not as exciting as it sounds. Then Rube said he was in the mood for fish, so we had to go out for sushi, which I personally find disgusting, so I just had coffee while he ate. Then we went back to the apartment.

Here's where things got horrible.

I knew Rube would be mad at me for going mental on him earlier, so I was ready to get yelled at, threatened, whatever. I watched him hang up his jacket and cap. The whole time he was talking about how if I was going to defy him and act like a spoiled kid, he was going to treat me like one. Then he locked the front door and turned around.

"Well," he said, "Let's get this over with." He started pulling off his belt. "Take your britches down."

Britches. I guess he meant jeans, since I don't wear anything that comes close to looking like they could be called britches. I took a step back, and held up my hands.

"What?"

"Get them down, bend over."

"No! What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You're not scared, are you?"

"No." I glared at him. "That doesn't mean I want you to hit me, you psycho!"

Rube just shook his head at me. "This is going to happen whether you cooperate or not, kid. Come here." I watched him step toward me, and I backed away.

"Don't touch me. I'll scream."

He shrugged. "I'm sure you will. Go ahead. Mrs. Hardaway in 5C's as deaf as a post, and the downstairs apartment has been empty for a month. You won't be bothering anyone." I was totally freaked out. There was no where to go. I thought about running, trying to get the door, but he was in my way. He backed me up to a wall and grabbed my wrist, then jerked me around until I was facing away from him. Then he raised the belt.

I couldn't help it. I saw his arm come up out of the corner of my eye, and I ducked. A second passed, and then Rube jerked me back around to face him. He looked really, really pissed.

"I am not going to hit you in the head. Do you understand, Jane? Say you understand."

I just stared at him with my mouth open like an idiot. Rube looked disgusted. He threw his belt across the room and let me go, then told me to go to my room. I could not get out of there fast enough.


	7. Chapter 7

Last night there was a monster movie marathon on the local public access channel. Rube doesn't have cable, so I have to live with whatever the antenna can pick up. He doesn't even have a dvd player, which is just strange. They cost like thirty dollars. Anyway, since it was public access they were the lame monster movies from the thirties... Dracula with Bela Lugosi and Frankenstein with Boris Karloff. Rube actually watched a little of Dracula with me. He said he remembers seeing it in a theater. He said that a woman in the audience got so scared she fainted. I thought that was pretty funny. I go to movies like Saw and Hostel and no one faints, not even at the really gory parts. He said that it doesn't even compare, that it's not hard to gross people out, but it's hard to really terrify someone anymore. I didn't really know what he was talking about.

I love monster movies. I've seen them all. I've seen all of the Romero movies and the remakes. I've even seen the campy 70's monster movies with Vincent Price, like Dr. Phibes. There is something really appealing about a story about a monster: You know that the monster is going to be a bad guy, and you know there is a hero who is going to stop him. Like Frankenstein. If no one can stop him, you know there will be a sequel, like the Halloween movies. It's easy. Bad versus evil, unless there's something complicated going on. Like most Stephen King movies. That's some cosmic shit going on there.

I fell asleep in front of the tv and when I woke up a little while ago there was a blanket draped over me and Rube wasn't here. It's not typical for him to just leave me alone, since he doesn't trust me. I'm surprised that he doesn't think I'm going to steal his stuff and sell it for crack money or something. I remember how closely he watched me at first. I couldn't do anything. And I was freaked. It wasn't because I thought he would hit me - what do I care? It was that I realized that he was really going to keep me prisoner under threat of throwing me to the gravelings. I argued about it with him.

"You wouldn't do that." I said. I wasn't really sure he wouldn't.

He said, "I'm tired of wondering if you're going to do decide you want to do your job. If the threat of letting the gravelings declare open season on you is the only thing that makes you consider following the rules, I'll do it."

The conversation was pissing me off. "Why do you even care? You could just kick me out and in a few weeks I'd be gone and you'd have a new reaper in my place."

He sighed. "Believe it or not, putting up with your shit is actually easier than dealing with a reaper gone AWOL. I've done it before and I don't want to do it again."

So he doesn't want to be hassled, as it turns out. Any time I start thinking that maybe Rube likes me and doesn't want me to get killed (again), I just remember that he just doesn't want to deal with cleaning up the mess that would leave.

Anyway, that was the end of that and we went on with Rube's life the way he wanted to live it. He never talked about how started to beat me and then didn't. I didn't bring it up. The next couple of days were spent following Rube everywhere he went. It was fucking depressing. All we did was go to work and go home. We barely saw anybody. I'm used to meeting people and having fun, and he just doesn't do that. He waved at some people he knew in the park, and he's always nice to the souls he reaps, but that seems to be his whole social life. Just do the job and go home. I, on the other hand am used to having a social life, places to go and people to see. I'm used to doing whatever I want with my free time, including taking or smoking whatever I want. I think that those few days were the longest that I have been sober in months, and I had to spend them with Rube. It was all around awful.

Here's a list of things that I lost when Matt literally threw my shit out, besides my cell phone: My toothbrush, my hairbrush, my Aveda facial moisturizer, my kickass black boots, my ipod with like 1400 songs on it, and worst of all my stash of pills. I kept it hidden in the toe of one of my kickass black boots. I'm sure Matt found it and immediately traded it to his tweaker neighbors for speed.

I miss my stash.

Needless to say, Rube didn't replace that, but he did get me a new toothbrush. I had to practically beg him for a few bucks to buy a pack of American Spirits. He acted like it was the most disgusting thing he'd ever done, giving me three bucks for cigarettes. He said I might as well be injecting poison right into my veins, not that it matters since I've already died. I pointed out that the cigarettes I smoked were additive free and organic. They're practically healthy. He just rolled his eyes.

We did see the other reapers a couple of times a day at Der Waffle Haus. I couldn't really understand why we always have to meet there - I guess because it's one of the few places that are open 24 hours in this backwards city. Rube and I would be there at the asscrack of dawn, he'd eat a big breakfast and I'd drink some coffee, and I'd watch him pass out the assignments on post-it notes. I barely had time for the pitying looks from the others before they were gone again and Rube and I were left alone, staring at each other. The only time I got by myself was when one of us was in the bathroom. Then we'd hang out all day until our reaps. He even managed to make that boring. He shows up for every reap so fucking early and somehow knows exactly what he's doing. He never has to chase anyone or anything. Later we'd catch up with the other reapers, and Rube would fix whatever fuckups they'd made during the day, and then we'd go back to Rube's apartment where I would lie in bed and look at the ceiling all night long.

A couple of days passed, and then the inevitable happened. Rube sat down across from me and made a serious face.

"I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say."

I was busy ripping up packets of sugar and emptying them into my coffee cup, but I looked up at him. This sounded interesting.

He held out a post-it note toward me, but pulled it back when I tried to take it. I hate that shit. "You have a reap at 11:09 p.m. in Inglewood."

"Okay. So?"

He made a face like he tasted something bad. "So, I have a reap at 11:15 at the airport."

Once I understood what he meant, he sighed and passed me the post-it, and then he gave me a whole lecture about how I'd better watch myself and not fuck up, and he'd drop me off an be back to get me and I'd better be there and blah blah blah. I asked him why he didn't just give his reap to someone else.

"Don't you know? This is beginner's stuff, kid. Reaps are nontransferable. You know how much paperwork you have to do after you reap someone else's soul? It takes hours, fill out the tiny spaces on the forms in triplicate... I'd rather stick a fucking fork in my eye." Kiffany came by to refill our coffee, and she gave Rube a look.

She left again and he leaned over the table and lowered his voice. "I don't have to tell you what will happen if you fuck this up, do I?"

I stopped pouring sugar and glared at him. "You'll beat me up?"

"Don't be so dramatic." He was quiet for a little while. Then he said, "I've asked Mason to be your chaperone for this reap."

"Chaperone? I don't think I've ever heard anyone use that word in real life. Why Mason? He's just as big a fuck-up as I am."

"I didn't say he was my first choice," Rube growled. We finished our coffee, Rube took his waffles and we went on with our day like normal. Well, not exactly normal because I was getting some ideas. I was making a plan. I figured that I would have a couple of hours of freedom, and I wanted to make the most of it and get back some of the things I lost.

We went back to Rube's place because, as always, he had some paperwork to do. I tried to read a magazine but I couldn't concentrate. Rube's fiber fortified orange juice finally caught up with him and he excused himself to the can. When the door was closed I went to his desk and picked up the phone. It's this old pewter plated rotary style phone with a cord and for a second I couldn't remember how to dial. I figured it out, but I was nervous and I had to dial twice. I'm not really sure what I was so nervous about. I am pretty sure I'm allowed to use a phone.

A dude answered. I was actually surprised. He didn't sound familiar or anything - I am not sure what I expected to happen.

"Is Jane there?" I asked after a couple of seconds.

"Wrong number." He hung up.

I dialed again. He answered again. Before he could say anything, I spoke.

"I don't have the wrong number. I know who this phone belongs to. My, uh, friend lost it and she wants it back."

There was silence on the other end before he asked who I was.

"Nobody. Listen, my friend really wants her phone back. She thinks she lost it in a cab in Tacoma Junction. Did you find it there?"

Again, silence. I heard the toilet flush in the other room and I started to get nervous.

"I can pay you. I'll pay you if you give me the phone. My friend really needs it back. I can give you..." I thought of some random number. "Three hundred dollars."

There was more silence. I was starting to think I was just going to have to give up. Finally, he said something.

"This phone's not worth three hundred."

I sighed and came up with some bullshit about not being able to get out of the service contract. I heard water running and got a little desperate. "Listen, Do you want the money or not?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, fine. Can you meet tonight? I don't get off work until 11:30. Can you meet me at the corner of K Street and Wiley at 12:30?" I didn't think about it at the time, but I asked the dude who probably tried to kill me to meet me at the place he probably did it, and after midnight. Awesome!

I heard the bathroom door open, and I panicked. I hung up as quietly as I could and ran back around the desk to my reading chair, and sat down as soon as Rube came through the door. He didn't suspect a thing! I thought I was some kind of genius mastermind.

Rube dropped me off at DWH about an hour before my reap, and he warned me again to watch myself and be back here by blah blah blah. I didn't care. I was free!

I met Mason and told him my plan, and that all I wanted him to do was come with me and help me get my cell phone back. He asked me if I actually had three hundred dollars. I said no, but I had a crowbar. He seemed to think that was funny. Then he asked why I didn't just get a new cell phone. I guess he meant why I didn't just steal a cell phone, since I don't have the money for a new one. I told him that I had an emotional attachment to that one. I couldn't really tell anyone about me and Santos. No one understands.

Mason is actually a pretty good guy to go to for these kinds of things. It's just a normal night for him, really. We still had my reap to take care of before we headed over there, and luckily Mason got a car somewhere. It was an old beater that smelled like feet, but it was a car. We went to my reap in Inglewood, which was an uneventful drowning in a retention pond. I swear I saw a graveling while I was there, but it was really dark and I only saw it out of the corner of my eye. It looked like a little blurry gremlin, like from the movie Gremlins. Mason said that he's seen Gravelings before, and they give him the fucking creeps.

It was a few minutes after midnight by the time we made it to the intersection. I was on edge. I didn't see anything, but this street didn't have the best lighting. Mason pulled over and we waited, watching the street. After about fifteen minutes another car pulled up with its headlights off. Mason tucked a crowbar into his jacket before he got out. I didn't have a jacket, so I just stuck my hands in my pockets. We watched the other guy get out of his car, and then we saw someone else getting out of the back seat. Then someone else. Then somene else.

I think I invented a new swear word. This was obviously a trap. The problem was, I really needed my phone. As bad as getting the shit beaten out of me by four men was going to be, it would be ten times worse to admit that I lost that thing. Mason looked like he wanted to shit his pants, but he was acting like it was no big deal. It seemed that my original plan of hitting the guy over the head and taking whatever was in his pockets wasn't going to work after all. I had to come up with something else, fast.

Mason leaned over and whispered, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

I shook my head. "How much money do you have?"

"Me? What do you want my money for?"

"Just give it to me."

The four men were walking towards us as Mason got out his wallet. He passed me his money, all 57 dollars of it, and some change. I held it in my fist. One of them asked me for the money. I couldn't tell if it was the same guy I talked to on the phone.

I told him that I would give him the money when he gave me the phone. Mason made a weird noise in his throat, and I realized that one of them was holding a knife. Some moonlight was shining on it. I tried to stay calm, but it was really hard. I asked for the phone again, and someone laughed.

"Bitch, you ain't getting shit. Give me the money."

I told him we had a deal. I said that the deal was $300 for the phone.

"Give me the fucking money or I'll kill you, how's that for a deal?"

I considered this.

"Just give him the fucking money." Mason said.

"No!" I said, wanting to throw up. "Just give me my phone!"

Here's where things got ugly. Someone lunged at us, and Mason pulled out his crowbar. Then he hit someone with it, then he got punched in the face, which knocked him down and he dropped the crowbar with a clang. The dude he hit was on the ground crying, and someone pushed me and I was pretty sure I was going to get stabbed, but suddenly there were flashing blue police lights, and the whole group was running away, including me and Mason. Mason had gotten to his feet and was pulling me down the sidewalk toward the car. He yelled at me to get in, the fucking cops are here, and I heard an engine rev and tires peel out as the other guys made their escape. I expected a police car to come roaring by, but weirdly the flashing lights were approaching really slowly. Then Mason groaned, and I looked up and it wasn't a police car coming toward us at all. It was Rube's truck with flashing blue lights on the dashboard.

He stopped the truck, killed the lights, got out and looked around before saying anything. I was starting to get really uncomfortable.

"What are you two idiots doing out here?"


	8. Chapter 8

Mason was catching his breath. "Nice lights, Rube, did you pick those up for parties? Jesus fucking Christ, I nearly pissed myself." He got out a cigarette and tried to light it, but his hands were shaking too much. My hands were shaking too. I still had Mason's money. I shoved it in my pocket.

"How did you know we were here?" I asked. Rube stood by the driver's side door with his arms crossed. It was too dark to see the look on his face, but I could tell he was pissed.

"Get in the truck."

Mason said he'd give me a ride, but Rube shook his head.

"Mason, I think you should get the fuck out of here. Jane and I have something to discuss. Get in the truck, Jane."

I didn't want to, but I also didn't want him to leave me on this dark street at the mercy of anyone who came by, and especially gravelings. So I did.

We drove away in silence. I was still uncomfortable. I tried to make small talk by asking him where he got the police lights. He didn't answer me, so then I asked again how he knew where to find me. He told me to shut up. That made me mad. I mean, he told me to get in the truck because we had something to discuss, and now he tells me to shut up? Rude! However, I am no fool. So I shut up for the rest of the ride.

When we pulled up to the apartment and parked, I started to open the door but Rube put out his arm and stopped me.

"Are you hungry?"

I just stared at him and he sighed.

"Listen, kid. This is it. If you come in, you're going to get a whipping. You should probably leave now. It's your choice."

Some choice. Be hunted down by gravelings or get my ass beaten. I had a few seconds to think it over, and I convinced myself that it wasn't going to be too bad. How bad could it really be? He'd slap me on the ass a few times and it would be over. He'd get off on the power and I'd be left alone again for a while. I unbuckled the seat belt and got out, and followed him upstairs.

The last couple of days I had dreaded coming back to this boring fucking apartment, to the tiny bedroom with the narrow bed and musty boxes, but now all I wanted to do was run in there and hide.

Here's what a whipping from Rube is like. There are three parts. First, there's the lecture. Oh my god. I fucking hate the lecture. I have to sit down while Rube paces around in front of me talking about what I did to deserve what I had coming, and so on. Usually it's something like, why don't you ever learn? You need to shape up. Fly right. There are consequences for your behavior, and etcetera. He's got it down to an art form now, but the first time we sat down and stared at each other, him in an easy chair and me on the ottoman.

"You must think I'm pretty fucking stupid." He said.

"No." I said. I really don't.

"What did you think you were doing? Did you think that when I came to pick you up and you weren't there I'd just shrug and wait for you?"

"I don't know."

"What were you doing, anyway? Were you trying to get revenge on whoever jumped you?"

The words "jumped you" sound like a foreign language when they come out of Rube's mouth. I guess I was a little snotty in response. "You figured it out," I said. "When someone hurts me, I bring my posse and we pop some caps in them." Only it wasn't as funny in real life as it sounded in my head.

Rube stood up. "You think you're really fucking funny. What's this about? Your wallet? Your cell phone? Are you telling me that you're really stupid enough to try to get your shit back from someone who tried to kill you? Are you actually surprised that you almost ended up in exactly the same position? Are you really that stupid?"

"Why don't you tell me? You think you know everything."

"No, Jane, I don't think I know everything, but I know a hell of a lot more than you do, and it's about time you acknowledged that."

"So that's why you're going to beat me. Because you think I'm stupid."

He looked disgusted and sighed. "I don't think you're stupid. You act stupid, but I don't think you're really stupid. No, I'm going to beat your ass because you disobeyed me. That's it. I'm not interested in teaching you any life lessons here. I just want you to stop making my life so difficult."

He paced. "I told you what I expected you to do and chose to do something else. So now you're going to get whipped, and hopefully you'll think twice before you do something like this again." He was actually rolling up his sleeves while he talked. "Any more questions?"

Then he told me to stand up. He took his belt off and folded it, holding the buckle in his right hand.

Here we go. Part two. The beating itself. The first time, we didn't have a routine down. So I didn't know what to do and I was kind of shocked, again, when he told me to take my jeans down. I said no. He told me again, and I said no again, and I called him some names. Rube grabbed my arm, hauled me over the arm of the easy chair and whaled on the back of my thighs with that fucking belt. I am just going to say, once and for all, that even with my jeans on that hurt like a motherfucker. I mean, he was swinging that thing really hard. It was just the belt part, not the buckle part, but I expected my jeans to be in shreds. He hit me like four or five times, and then he stopped.

He let go of my arm, and I stood up and grabbed the back of my legs. I was surprised that I wasn't bleeding. I didn't cry, but I did yell at him and call him a dick.

"Take down your pants."

"No!"

He grabbed me again and repeated the horrible scene. Four more licks to the backs of my thighs. I wanted to scream.

"Are you going to take them down now? I can do this a lot longer than you can, kid."

I considered this. I decided he was probably right.

"Okay!" I gasped. He was probably right. He let go of me and I slowly unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down.

"Further."

I pushed them down further, to my knees. This was fucking humiliating, standing in my panties. And my legs ached. I waited.

"Pull them back up."

"What?"

"Pull them back up, now." He snapped the belt and I hurried to pull my pants up.

"Good. Now take them down."

I was confused. "What the fuck?"

"You're practicing. You're going to practice until I'm convinced you can do it the first time I ask."

"You're fucking kidding me."

He shook his head. "You're not really in any position to refuse. This is what I'm talking about, this pathological need of yours to defy me. It seems like it would be in your best interest to do as you're told, Jane."

I groaned, but what choice did I have really? I must have pushed my pants down and pulled them back up ten times before he told me to stop. Now my pants were around my knees and he spun me around and bent me back over the arm of the chair. I was super aware of the fact that my ass was pointing straight at him. I asked him if he was enjoying himself, and he didn't answer. I had my elbows on the cushion of the chair and when I turned my head all I could see was Rube's back. I tried to remember what color panties I was wearing. Black, I decided, and then I heard the whooshing noise that the belt makes when it goes through the air and I felt the first lick.

Oh my god, the pain. I remember thinking, why doesn't anyone warn you about how much it hurts to get beaten with a belt? I mean, you hear mention of it once or twice in movies or books, or maybe you hear someone talk about it at school, how their dad still spanks them and he uses a belt. But no one comes right out and says, for god's sake don't every get in a situation where you would get your ass beaten with a belt, because it really fucking hurts. No one says do whatever you can to avoid it. If just one person had warned me I probably would have made a real effort to keep this from happening.

Rube had one hand on my back, which kept me from popping up and punching him right in the crotch like I felt like doing. He whipped me maybe a dozen times. I don't know for sure, I lost count. Each lick was agonizing. My ass felt like it was on fire, especially on the side where the tip of the belt wrapped around and hit me in the same place every time. My legs were shaking. I don't know how I kept from yelling or crying. I guess I was too shocked.

Then he stopped, and told me to stand up and pull my pants up. That's it. I jumped up as fast as I could and called him all kinds of names. It didn't seem to bother Rube. He actually looked amused.

Part three is the punishment. I was surprised and pissed when Rube told me that there was more. I thought that getting beaten was the punishment. Rube said no, that in a few minutes I wouldn't feel a thing anyway, thanks to my undead metabolism, and that the whipping was just to get my attention. To reinforce that my disobedience was unacceptable (his words not mine), he was going to make me sit on my sore, welted ass and write sentences. I am not kidding. He got out this huge dusty dictionary and a yellow legal pad, and told me to sit at the dining table and write all of the definitions of obedience one hundred times. That's like 3,000 words. I told him that I already knew the definition of obedience, and he said that he had a hard time believing that.

I told him that I wasn't going to do it, and he said that I knew where the door was. Then he grabbed a book and sat down in the same chair he'd just made me bed over while he whipped me, and started reading. I couldn't believe it.

Rube read while I wrote. It took me like two hours, because he said it had to legible. By the time I was done my ass and felt totally normal, like I'd never been whipped at all, but I had a cramp in my hand. It was almost four in the morning. He told me to go to my room but to be ready to go in a couple of hours. I was exhausted and I lay down on the bed in my clothes and tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I just tossed until the sun came up. I had too much to think about. Like, is this what my life is going to be like from now on? I compared it to my old one. Not my actual life, I don't usually think about that, but my life when I was reaping souls in Vegas. I had a lot of friends, I pretty much did whatever I wanted, and I had fun. Most of the time.

There were times when Santos would get mad at me and do some things he'd apologize for later, but at least I knew he liked me and we had a lot of fun. Again, most of the time.

I don't know why I was transferred, but this new assignment definitely wasn't working out. Rube was totally unreasonable. This was like prison, except at least in prison I wouldn't have been forced to write sentences.

I decided I would try to keep out of his way for a few days, and when he forgot about how much he hated me I would talk to him about requesting another transfer. There's got to be some kind of process, right? I mean, apparently whoever his boss was loved paperwork. I figured that there was some kind of form I would fill out, and then I would wait for another spot to open up closer to home.


	9. Chapter 9

I couldn't get back to sleep last night. I was exhausted from writing, but all I could do was watch tv. Rube came back as the sun was rising. I was used to him being up super early, but I wasn't used to him not coming home all night. He asked me what I was doing up, and I told him that I couldn't sleep very well. I asked him what he'd been doing all night, and he said what did I think he was doing? I guess that's his smartass way of saying he was working. The attitude is totally unnecessary.

Then he asked me if I was having trouble sleeping because I was on drugs. He's always accusing me of being on drugs. Anything I do that's just a little out of the ordinary. Like, if I spend too much time in the bathroom it's because I'm using drugs. Or if I am a couple minutes late meeting him, I'm on drugs. He says it just like that, "are you on drugs?" I just roll my eyes. As if it matters.

By the time we got to the diner this morning everyone was already there waiting. Kiffany asked me if I wanted anything to eat, and I said no, that I was trying to lose some weight. I expected Rube to have something to say about that, but he wasn't paying attention.

Since I got back from Vegas I've had to have a chaperone for all of my reaps, because of course Rube doesn't trust me. This morning George had to escort me. I like working with George, because she has a great car, a convertible. It's the one that Daisy was driving when I got shot and I accidentally bled all over. She's still a little pissed about that. Well, she's usually pissed in general. I sometimes wonder what it's like to be so emotional all the time. I mean, I have feelings and shit but I don't let them ruin my life. I just ignore the stuff that I don't want to feel and I move on.

While we were on the way to my reap, I asked George if she had ever seen Rube so mad for so long before. She kind of smiled and said that once someone described Rube as a volcano, that sometimes he would erupt and everyone who was in the way would get scorched, but that after a little while he would calm down and everything would go back to normal. I said that it sounded totally fucking dysfunctional.

It's not like I didn't know that about him. Dysfunctional. I've got a story about dysfunction. The morning after I got whipped for the first time, Rube acted like nothing had happened at all. How dysfunctional is that? That long night, neither of us slept but he was just as cheerful as he always is. He whistled while he did his fucking crossword. I couldn't take it so I went outside to smoke a cigarette. When I got back to the booth Rube was eating eggs with some yellow sauce on them and in front of my seat there was this fucking creepy plate of pancakes made up to look like a clown's face, with banana eyes and a strawberry nose and whipped cream hair. I stared at it.

"What's this?"

Rube didn't look up from his newspaper. "It's breakfast."

"Yeah, I can see that. What's it doing here?" I stared at the banana eyes. They were empty and disturbing. I don't like bananas. They're too slimy.

"I ordered it for you."

I picked up a sugar packet and tore it in half, then emptied it into my coffee. "No thanks."

"Try it."

"I said no thanks." I emptied another packet into my coffee.

Rube looked at me like he was trying to figure something out and leaned his chin on his fist. "Every morning I come in here and I order breakfast. I love breakfast. It's my favorite meal of the day. Like this morning, I ordered eggs benedict. Yesterday, I had a mushroom omelet. The day before that I had pancakes, and the day before that I think I had French toast with a side of sausage. I don't think I've ever seen you eat."

I do eat, just not a lot. I eat when I get hungry, but being around dying and dead people all day I don't get hungry very much. Go figure. I shrugged and shook another packet of sugar into my coffee.

"Every day you come in, you swill that shit and it makes my stomach turn. I can't enjoy myself. Don't get me wrong, I love coffee. It's a beautiful thing, but what you do to it: Twelve fucking packs of sugar, you can eat it with a spoon. It's an abomination."

"I like it."

"Yeah, well why don't you try eating some solid food for a change. You might like that too."

"I don't like bananas."

"Who doesn't like bananas?"

Roxy had come in and seated herself next to Rube while we talked. She was just coming off a shift, and she looked beat. She took her hat off and ran her hands over her hair and looked at me with disgust.

"Me. And I'm not hungry." I took a swig of coffee.

"I didn't ask if you were hungry." He glared at me. "Just eat it, unless you want to find yourself in the same position you were in last night."

I thought for a second that Roxy was going to ask Rube what he meant by that, and I really didn't want her to find out that Rube whipped me. She didn't ask, though. She just leaned over and hissed at me.

"Are you deaf? The man said to eat the fucking pancake clown, so shut the fuck up and eat."

Rube smirked into his newspaper. Whatever. I was too tired to argue. I picked the bananas off the pancakes while they talked. Roxy bitched about the bad night she'd had on duty. I sort of listened while I choked down a few bites.

"You'd think that since I have the Ruger double action revolver, the motherfucker would listen to me when I told him to get on the ground, right? Have you noticed that people get dumber every decade?" She waved Kiffany over. "Have you ever seen COPS? I always thought they had writers telling those assholes what to do and say. You know what? People really are that stupid. They're idiots to begin with, and then they get all coked up, strung out, under the influence of whatever, out of their minds."

"It's the war on drugs," I said with my mouth full. "Most of those people aren't hurting anyone. They're just trying to get high."

Roxy looked at me like I'd just said the dumbest thing she'd ever heard. "Excuse me? I've heard all about your recent fuck-ups, I don't think I need your opinion on law enforcement policy."

"I'm just saying..."

"In case you haven't noticed, I have a job to do. I took a motherfucking oath. So if you don't mind, why don't you keep your asinine opinions to yourself?"

Roxy always makes me feel like an idiot. I shrugged and ate the stupid pancakes. The others straggled in and Rube handed out the post-its. Everyone had two except for me and Rube. Daisy immediately complained that it was unfair, and that he was obviously going easy on me. I wanted to ask her if being bent over and spanked with a belt was Rube's idea of going easy on me, but of course I didn't. Rube told her to mind her own business and do her job.

I didn't have a reap that day and Rube's wasn't until that night. We hung out at the apartment for the rest of the morning. I was out of cigarettes, and my stomach hurt. I was watching some kung fu movie while Rube worked in whatever paperwork he's always working on, and the volume was on really low but apparently it was still too loud for him, because during one of the fight scenes he threw down his pen.

"What on earth are you watching?"

I squinted at the tv, which had gone fuzzy. "Kung fun movie. The reception isn't very good. You should get cable."

"I don't think so. Why don't you turn that thing off and read something?"

"No thanks." I kept watching. Rube sighed, stood up and walked over to the tv set and turned it off. I glared at him. He crossed his arms and looked at me.

"You look like you have something to say."

I shook my head and looked back at the blank tv screen. I could see my reflection in it, but it was one of those old fashioned sets with the curved screen, so it was all wobbly and misshapen.

"Come on, I want to hear it. You've been in a rotten fucking mood all day, and I've just about had enough of it."

"What do you expect?"

"I expect you to grow the fuck up and tell me what's bothering you."

"You know what I'm going to say."

"So say it." He threw up his hands. "You've haven't been shy about speaking your mind yet."

I didn't answer, and he turned and walked across the room. "If you're not going to talk to me, you can go to bed."

I couldn't believe it. I looked at the clock on the mantel. "It's two in the afternoon!"

"Your choice." He opened the wardrobe and took out a big canvas bag. He started shoving clothes into it.

"Fine," I said, wondering if this was really a good idea, "I don't like you."

"Yeah, I gathered." He kept shoving clothes into the bag. "You called me some choice names last night."

I remembered. "That's not what I meant."

"I know. You're angry at me." He closed up the bag and tossed it on the floor. "You disobeyed me and you got whipped like a bad little puppy, and you're pissed off." He took his jacket out of the closet and slid an arm into it.

I thought about pointing out that while I had a reason to be angry at him, he didn't really have a good reason to be angry at me. But I didn't. I just glared at him.

"Get over it." He said, and he tossed a big flannel jacket at me. "And put this on. We're going out, it's laundry day."

Here's something I don't understand. Rube must be loaded, to be able to live this way without having an actual job. I have no idea where he gets his money, but he seems to have a never ending supply of it. So why doesn't he send his laundry out to get done? Every week he takes it to this shitty little laundromat and sits with all the plebeians waiting to use the machines to wash his boxers. It doesn't make any sense. I asked him why, and he said that he likes to watch people. I told him that was really fucking creepy, and he told me to find someone else to talk to for a while.

I was already in a pissy mood when we got to the laundromat. It was crowded and hot inside. I was out of cigarettes and the machine didn't have my brand. We waited for a washing machine and Rube stood on the curb and filled his pipe. I was jealous. Pipe smoking looks infinitely cooler than cigarette smoking, although it also looks like a lot more work. I sat down and looked through an old issue of Teen Vogue that someone left on a chair. Two machines opened up about twenty minutes later and Rube started sorting his laundry into the two of them. Then something horrible happened.

I had no idea that Rube would be doing my laundry too. I guess it's another way his control issues were coming out (I sure hope I don't get bitched at for writing that), or a nice gesture. I don't know. If I had known he was going to do that, I would have been more careful. I was watching him turn the pockets out of a pair of gray cargo pants, and I thought, 'Those pants look like my gray cargo pants'. Suddenly it dawned on me that they were my gray cargo pants.

Then my plastic baggie of weed fell out of the side pocket, right on top of the washing machine.

Rube looked at it for a second, then he looked up at me. I tried to hide behind the magazine. I couldn't think of anything else to do. Rube looked around and it seemed that no one had seen, so he shoved the bag into his pocket and kept doing laundry like nothing had happened.

My heart was racing. His jaw was clenched as he went on with the sorting. He dumped the two piles in different machines and poured in the soap, and then he put in the quarters and started the machines. And then he walked across the room, grabbed me by the arm and shoved me outside, where I got a really nasty chewing out. I usually have a pretty good memory for what people have said to me, but I can't remember exactly what he said, I guess because was focused on watching to see if he was going to take a swing at me. Plus when he's yelling at me everything kind of runs together after a while. He didn't raise his voice, I guess because he didn't want to bring too much attention to us. He leaned over me and kind of growled into my ear. I guess to anyone passing by it would look like a normal, clean cut dad lecturing his bored daughter. It went something like this:

"What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you think would have happened if someone had seen that and called the cops? Do you know how tenuous this identity is, how many years I have spent building this anonymous persona? All of that work could have been destroyed with one phone call! You have no idea how much work goes into maintaining this life so that no one gets suspicious and no one asks questions. I will be god-fucking-damned if I am going to let one idiotic kid ruin that."

I had to look up 'tenuous'. It's a pretty good word.

I said it was an accident. I didn't mean for that to happen. He said that it didn't matter, that taking any chance was putting everything in jeopardy for everyone and that if I had any other drugs I'd better give them to him right fucking now. I told him I didn't have anything else, and he didn't really look like he believed me.

Then he looked around to make sure no one saw, and he threw the bag of weed into a storm drain. I protested that he'd just thrown out about sixty bucks worth of pot. He grabbed my ear and whispered that if I said another word he's pull down my pants and spank me right there in the middle of the sidewalk. I shut up, but I wanted to point out that he'd probably get arrested for assault, and that would be the end of his anonymous life. I just rubbed my sore ear instead.

We sat next to each other on the hard plastic chairs and waited for the laundry to be done. I pretended to read the Teen Vogue, but I was really trying to decide if this was the point where I should just say 'fuck it' and leave. I didn't know what I was sticking around for. I mean, I didn't want to die (again), but what kind of un-life was this? Go to work, come home, don't have any fun. I usually feel hopeless, but around Rube I feel totally out of control. I hate, hate hate being told what to do and when. I decided to wait and see what happened before I made any decisions, but if I ever felt like crying it was right then.

Rube put the wet laundry into the dryer, and when that was done he folded it and put it back in the laundry bag. I didn't offer to help. He carried the bag to his truck, then he came back and took my by the arm and walked me to the truck. It was a long quiet ride home. When we got to his apartment, he made me put away all of my clothes neatly in the dresser in my room. He went through the few things I had hanging up in the closet, I guess looking for drugs. He didn't find anything. Then he looked at me and sighed, like he was really tired. He said that he hadn't planned to do this so soon after the last time, but that he would do whatever it took to get my attention. He stated taking off his belt and told me to take down my pants and bend over the bed.

"You already have my attention," I said, "So you don't have to do anything." I thought about running through the door and not coming back.

Rube shook his head. "I've been thinking about this. You're a constant surprise, Jane. Just when I think you can't possible do anything more stupid than the last stupid thing you did, you do something that defies all logic. It's infuriating. This total lack of reason, insight, or fear of consequences. Either you're a sociopath and no amount of punishment will get you to change your behavior..."

He paused and doubled the belt in his hand. "Or you're a teenager, and a good spanking will make you think twice before you do something stupid again. I think you're just a kid who didn't get enough discipline growing up. Unfortunately, I've run out of patience, and I've never really believed in time outs. Bend over."

I looked at the belt in his hand; the belt that I knew would soon light my ass on fire. I started shaking. I don't know if it was because I was scared or angry. I'm thinking angry. "No."

It's hard to believe that I was ever brave enough to say no to Rube, especially in the face of what happened only the night before. I guess I wouldn't actually call it bravery. I guess it was more like self-preservation. It had been a long time since I'd done what someone told me to do without some kind of threat or bribery.

Rube didn't seem to get angry. He very calmly put the belt on the bed, then took hold of my waistband, unbuttoned my jeans, then pushed them down to my knees. I was still shaking and he pushed me until I was bent over the bed with my elbows on the bedspread. Then he picked the belt up again and I waited for the first lick. But Rube just had to stretch out the torture by talking to me.

"Do you know why you're getting whipped, Jane?"

I almost laughed. "Because you're a sadistic asshole?"

"You think I like doing this? Is that what you think?"

"Well, yeah."

"I don't do this because I like it. I do this because you need to understand that there are consequences for your behavior."

"Last night you said that you weren't trying to teach me any lessons."

"And I'm not. It's called negative reinforcement. Like monkeys in a cage, maybe if you get shocked enough times you'll stop touching the wire."

I still really don't know what he meant by that.

"Now I'm going to ask you again. Do you know why you're getting whipped?"

I thought I knew. "The weed?"

"You brought illegal drugs into my home." He made it sound like that was the worst thing anyone could ever do.

"Come on," I said, "You can't tell me you've never gotten stoned."

"That's not the point," Rube said angrily. "People depend on me! Roxy, Daisy, George, that idiot Mason. What do you think would happen to them if I got arrested and couldn't hand out their assignments? What do you think would happen to you?"

"So don't get arrested."

"You'd better watch your fucking mouth, kid. You think getting whipped is bad, I can think of a lot worse things to do to you."

I thought that just showed once again what a sadistic freak he was, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Nothing to say?"

My back hurt. I thought about saying that, but I decided against it.

"I guess we're done talking." That was all the warning I got before he brought the belt down, hard, across my ass. It wrapped around to my right hip and stung! I jumped up and grabbed my ass with both hands. Rube grabbed the back of my neck and forced me back over the bed. The pain was ten times worse then the night before, somehow. He was really mad this time.

He whipped me over and over with that fucking belt, covering every inch of my ass. I thought he must have whipped me twice as long as the night before. I thought I was going to die. Still, I somehow kept from crying and I barely yelled. I'd like to see anyone go through that and not yell at all. I think I did pretty well. I also struggled a lot, but Rube kept a grip on the back of my neck and I couldn't get my balance, so I stayed ass up while Rube whaled on me.

He paused in the middle of the spanking to lecture me some more about consequences, one of the rare times that he broke his three-step process. It sucked because my ass had just started to get numb, and then he took a break so it got sensitive by the time he started again. I squirmed as much as I could. But I still didn't cry.

Finally, it was over. Or so I thought. Rube dropped the belt by my head and I started to stand up, but he pushed me back down and surprised me by slapping my already sore ass. He slapped hard, alternating sides.

"If you ever, ever, ever bring drugs into my house again, I will flay you. I will whip you so hard that this will feel like a fucking Swedish massage by comparison. Do you understand?"

Only he slapped once for every word he said, so it was more like

If (slap) you (slap) ever (slap) ever (slap) ever (slap) bring (slap) drugs (slap) into (slap) my (slap) house (slap) again (slap) I (slap) will (slap) flay (slap) you (slap) I (slap) will (slap) whip (slap) you (slap) so (slap) hard (slap) that (slap) this (slap) will (slap) feel (slap) like (slap) a (slap) fucking (slap) Swedish (slap) massage (slap) by (slap) comparison (slap) do (slap) you (slap) understand? (slap)(slap)(slap)

Complete with lack of punctuation and everything. Honestly, I heard the words and I yelped out a "Yes!", but I would have agreed to anything at that point. While he was spanking I was frantically jumping from leg to leg trying to get away. Rube uses his hand like a motherfucking paddle, and it hurt!

I remember a couple of years earlier this guy I was with wanted to spank me in bed, and I said he could. He slapped me a couple of times and that was it. Well, he was sixteen, so nothing really took all that long in bed in the first place. I think our record was twelve minutes. Anyway, getting my ass slapped by him didn't feel great but it didn't hurt either. It was supposed to be erotic. Well, if this was what a real spanking was like then I couldn't imagine why anyone would get turned on by it. They should have their heads examined.

Finally it was really, actually over and he let me stand up. I started rubbing my ass through my panties. It was really hot! Rube picked up the belt and left the room without saying anything. He closed the door behind him.

I couldn't help it. I hobbled over to the mirror and pulled my panties down so I could look at my ass. That was my first clue that maybe I wasn't as tough as I thought when it came to pain. I expected it to be, like, bruised and bleeding and stuff. But it wasn't. It was really pink, sure, and there were a couple of welts from the edge of the belt, but that was it. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that a spanking that hurt that much didn't leave any marks.

I pulled up my pants and climbed onto the bed and rolled over onto my stomach. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be thinking about what I'd done. I know that's what Rube wanted me to do, but I didn't feel like thinking about anything.

After about half an hour Rube knocked on the door and told me to come out. He made me sit down at the table and told me to write the definition of the word 'prudence' a hundred times. I didn't know that was a real word until then. I thought it was just a girls' name. He said he had to get going on his reap, but I was to stay there and finish. I really didn't feel like arguing, so I just got to work. It took me about an hour and forty-five minutes. I finished before he got back, so I closed the dictionary and went back to bed. I was really fucking tired. It was dark by this time, so I got under the covers and I fell asleep right away.

Rube woke me up the next morning like he normally did, by pounding on the door. I took a shower and got ready for another boring day. When I was getting dressed Rube knocked on the door again. I pulled my shirt over my head quickly and told him to come in. When he came in he had something in his hand. He held it out to me. It was a cell phone.

"What's this?"

"It's a cell phone."

"Okay." I looked at it.

He looked annoyed. "Would you just take it?"

"Okay," I said again, and I took it. "Is this for me?"

He said yes and then he started telling me about how many minutes I got and that he would get the bills so please don't go over my limit and blah blah blah, but I was busy looking at the features. It wasn't as nice as my old phone, but it was a phone. At least I could talk to my friends. I looked in the address book and there was one number in there. Rube's.

He noticed me looking at it. "When you see my name on the caller ID, you'd better answer. I don't care where you are or what you're doing. Do you understand?"

I nodded. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to thank him or what. He turned and left, and I put the phone in my pocket and went to find my shoes.


	10. Chapter 10

I haven't written in this thing in a couple of days. Rube hasn't been around, so I didn't think I needed to. I went to the library yesterday and got a library card, my first one since I was like eight years old. Back then I checked out Amelia Badelia so many times that I had the words memorized and could recite it just by looking at the pictures. I checked out a couple of books about monsters, one of them by the guy who wrote the Bigfoot book Rube gave me. I also checked out The Stand. I've never read it. I tried to watch part of the miniseries once, and I got to the part where the trash can man blows up a refinery, and all I could think was who would wear a trench coat in July? Maybe the book is better. 

Anyway, Rube figured out that I haven't been writing in this thing and he said I still had to, that it was part of my punishment. And I said, part of? What's the rest of it? He didn't answer. It's not really that horrible, though. I'm not sure if I should write that, since Rube will read it and come up with something worse. I've gotten used to writing more and my hand doesn't cramp as much. Rube said that I'm getting better at writing, too. That I do dialogue better. But he thinks I spend too much time writing about the times he's chewed me out and whipped me. Well, that's what my life is these days. Plus, I'm getting to the other stuff. It's not like I can just skip to the important parts. That wouldn't be an autobiography. That would be like a summary of your life that you'd put up on myspace or your livejournal. Twenty facts about Jane.

So if that's what Rube wants, fine. I can play that game. Here's a fact. I remember every phone number I've ever learned. My first phone number, when we lived in Bishop, the next five phone numbers we had, all of the phone numbers of my friends growing up and of course the phone numbers of my old crew in Vegas. I can't forget them. Some people have photographic memories; I guess I would have a tape recorder memory. I remember almost everything I hear, unless I'm distracted. It used to get me in so much trouble, because so many people say something they don't mean or that they want to forget they said, and there I am like a fucking tape recorder to play it back for them. One time Santos wouldn't talk to me for four days because we had a fight and he threatened to kill me, and later he said he never threatened to kill me, and how could I think that about him, and that I was ungrateful bitch who didn't deserve him. I had to tell him that he never said it before he'd talk to me again. It sucked.

The whole point of trying to get my cell phone back was so that I could answer when Santos called, but now that Rube gave me a phone I didn't think it was a good idea to try to call him. I didn't necessarily want Rube to check out the bill and ask me who I was calling in Vegas. I thought about texting him, but that would have just made him call me. So I didn't do anything. I was still trying to find a good opportunity to talk to Rube about getting a transfer.

He was being really nice, almost pleasant since he'd beaten my ass for having weed. It was like whipping me put him in a good mood. I was on my best behavior for a couple of days, and we got along in some kind of weird balance. Go to work, come home, go to bed, don't say anything to upset him. I still hadn't gone on any solo reaps. I was under constant supervision.

Nothing really memorable happened until a couple of days passed. We went to Der Waffle Haus, as usual. He was cheerful at breakfast. He ordered me oatmeal. I hate oatmeal (too slimy), but I ate it because I wanted Rube to stay in a good mood. Mason, Daisy and George were at breakfast too. It was hard to get everyone together at the same time, since George and Roxy both had jobs. I knew Rube didn't like that. He liked to have everyone together at once to invade their personal space and make sure they weren't having too much fun. That's what I think anyway.

George was wearing her work clothes, which Mason refers to as her monkey suit, and she ordered hot chocolate. She said it reminded her of Christmas. She said it with nostalgia, if that's the right word for thinking about old memories that make you happy. Mason pointed out that Christmas was only a month and half ago.

"That's right, only three hundred and twenty shopping days left." Daisy said. "Better get a move on, Georgia."

"Who do I have to buy presents for?" George said glumly. "I haven't had a date in months, and it doesn't look like that's going to change anytime soon."

"Oh come on, Georgie," Mason said. "If you don't have a date by then I'll kiss you under the mistletoe. If we can find any mistletoe."

"Oh, Christmas was always my favorite time of the year," Daisy said. "I just loved it. All the presents, egg nog, caroling. On Christmas morning we'd get stockings full of oranges and grapefruit, which might not sound like much to you, but back then it was special treat. And of course, the presents."

George rolled her eyes. "You already said presents."

"Well, there were presents and there were presents. Presents under the tree and the bouquets of white lilies and holly, chocolates, jewelry, furs. I remember one Christmas this producer I was blowing gave me a choker made of the biggest, most perfect snow-white pearls that you have ever seen. I pawned it, of course, for one hundred and eighty dollars." She waited for a reaction. "Well, it couldn't last forever. Do you know how much one hundred and eighty dollars was in 1934?"

We all just stared at her. She sighed. "That was a wonderful Christmas."

I asked if we could talk about something else, and Daisy gave me a prissy look.

"What's the matter? Didn't you get what you wanted last year?"

I just said that I didn't do Christmas, which didn't seem to impress anyone. Rube handed out the assignments, post-its for everyone. I looked at mine and I guess I made a face because he asked me if something was wrong. I said no, but I was a little creeped out. The name on my post-it was K. Wollrath. That's my mom's name. Well, her name isn't K., it's Kathy. But Wollrath is a really uncommon last name. I'd never met a Wollrath besides my mom, not even her parents. I was pretty sure she wouldn't have moved to Seattle, but I was thinking, trying to remember if she'd ever mentioned any relatives in Washington. I didn't think she ever had.

The slim chance that this K. Wollrath might be my mom made me go all clammy and feel kind of sick. I had to keep my hand from shaking. Why would she have moved here, if it was here? What would she be doing here? And why would I be the one to reap her? This was too much to just be a coincidence. My reap wasn't until later that night. 9:14. I would have all day to wait and see what would happen.

Mason was describing his most memorable Christmas - when he ate a shitload of LSD and got so hot that he ran through the streets of west London in his underwear, even though there was snow on the ground. He was describing how when his mom, only he said mum, saw him come in the house like that she threw a frying pan at him, and somehow he made some kind of sweeping gesture that sent George's hot chocolate all over the front of her suit.

She of course threw a fucking fit, because there's nothing that George can't get angry about.

I was still thinking about my upcoming reap and I didn't realize that everyone had left until Rube whistled to get my attention. He looked at me suspiciously.

"Are you sure nothing is wrong?"

I guess I answered no too fast, because he didn't look like he was convinced. He told me to finish eating, that we had somewhere to be. I choked down the rest of my breakfast and we drove out to Green Lake Park, where Rube reaped a parking lot attendant who choked on a cough drop. I guess it was flu and cold season. I bought some cigarettes from a news stand across the street and then sat on a park bench while Rube escorted the newlydead to his pretty lights, which ironically looked like a country road and some kind of luxury car. I watched the dead guy's soul take off down the road while a couple of little old ladies fed ducks in the lake.

When the soul was gone, Rube sat down next to me. The parking lot attendant's body was slumped in a folding chair, and I knew it was just a matter of time before someone noticed and called an ambulance. We watched and waited. Rube took out his newspaper and read. After a few minutes he spoke.

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

"No."

"If this is you sulking for some reason, you can just..."

"I'm not sulking."

"So what's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

He gave me a sideways look. "What if I told you that you had to tell me?"

"I still wouldn't."

"All right, then I won't."

He looked at the overcast sky and he said that he read in the paper that the university was supposed to be having a film festival of some guy named George Cukor, who was a director. I made the mistake of asking Rube what movies he'd done, and he looked at me like I was an idiot. Then he said a long list of movies, most of which I'd never heard of. Anyway, we ended up going. It was only a few blocks away in a small, stuffy auditorium full of broken theater seats. There were like ten other people there. We came in during the middle of The Philadelphia Story, which I think is supposed to be about how funny alcoholism is? I don't know. Rube laughed a few times, so I know it couldn't have been that good.

At the end of the movie, some professor of something got up to talk. I went to the bathroom and to smoke, and when I came back they were just starting Born Yesterday starring Judy Holliday as a blonde airhead who's the girlfriend of a crooked millionaire. When her boyfriend wants to get into politics, he hires a reporter who's played by William Holden to tutor her about history and politics to make her acceptable into society. It's kind of cheesy, but pretty funny. And I guess it's supposed to be heartwarming and patriotic, but I could tell that most of the other people there thought it was lame. Of course, William Holden teaches Judy Holliday to be empowered and believe in herself and the American way of life (whatever that is), and they fall in love and get married at the end. I guess it's some kind of classic. Judy Holliday got an oscar for it.

Those stories about women being coached into a better way of life by some guy who falls in love with her - they're all bullshit. They're all based on the same formula, and only a few things are different. The woman is always unrefined and has a bad attitude, and the man always either hates all women until he meets her, or he is just too busy with work or science or politics or whatever to care that he's getting to talk to a real live girl! And then he usually yells at her for a while and makes her feel like shit, and then they fall in love. Bullshit. I can tell the world right now that there is nothing sexy about being yelled at all the time.

After the movie, Rube was hungry so we got some hot dogs in the park, and then we went back to watch A Star is Born. I fell asleep, so I don't really know what happened in that movie.

We spent the rest of the day watching movies. When they were over, we went back to Der Waffle Haus to meet George, who was supposed to take me to my reap. Rube said he had something else to do, but he said that he expected me back by ten o' clock, and that if he called my phone he expected me to answer, no matter what. I said okay, but I was still thinking about the name on my post-it and what was coming. What was I going to say to whoever K. Wollrath turned out to be? Hello, I might be related to you? Maybe you know my mom, and by the way sorry but you're going to die tonight?

George was in a BAD mood when she picked me up. She was still covered in chocolate. She was practically snarling. All I understood was that it had something to do with a boy. I asked her about it and she nearly took my head off, so I didn't bring it up after that.

My reap was in a big house in a nice neighborhood. George parked down the street and I walked to the house number on my post-it. It was pitch dark and icy rain was coming down. This was perfect weather for someone to bite it in. Lights were on all over the neighborhood, except for the house on my post-it. The front of the house was so dark that I couldn't tell where the front door was at first. I couldn't tell if anyone was even at home.

I rang the doorbell and waited for what seemed like forever. I was worried that I somehow had the wrong address or maybe my watch was wrong. Finally I heard someone walking around and the door opened a crack. The room was dark, and I couldn't see who had answered the door.

"Um... hello." I said. "My, uh, car broke down in front of your house. Can I use your phone to call triple A?"

A woman's voice answered me. "I'm sorry, but that won't be possible."

"Oh. Uh. Okay, can I at least use your bathroom?" I tried.

The woman mumbled something to herself and suddenly a light turned on from inside. Then I could see the woman who'd answered the door. She definitely wasn't my mother. She was short and older, and she was wearing big dark glasses. That explained why no lights were on.

"I'm sorry," She said. "You must think that it's strange for me to refuse to help you in this weather, but I'm blind. I don't have a normal telephone, I have a braille phone. You wouldn't know how to use it."

"You can dial for me," I said.

The woman looked like she was considering this, and then my cell phone rang from my pocket. The look of suspicion on the woman's face turned into fear. She slammed the door. I wanted to kill Rube. I ignored the ring in my pocket and pounded on the door.

I had to get in there, and I had to think of something that sounded realistic. The only thing I could think of was the truth. "I didn't mean to lie to you! I just wanted to see who lived here! I looked you up in the phonebook! Ms. Wollrath! I think we might be related!"

I waited but I didn't hear anything.

"Maybe you know my mother? Her name is Kathy Wollrath. She lives in Las Vegas. I'm looking for her relatives." I could hear her breathing now.

"Why didn't you say that first?" She said from behind the door. It was a good question. Why hadn't I just said that, instead of coming up with some lame story about my car breaking down?

"I wanted to know if you were nice," I lied. "Mom doesn't talk to any of her family she was disowned because she married my dad. He's black."

She couldn't tell that I was lying about that.

"And now she's dying of cancer, and I just wanted her to see some family before she died." That was some weird lie. I had no idea where that shit was coming from. I only knew one person who ever had cancer, and it wasn't my mom.

The door opened a crack again. "I'm sorry," The lady said again. "I don't think we could be related. My husband didn't have any relatives in Las Vegas."

"Oh, we're originally from California."

She paused. "You know, I think he did have some relatives in California. Wait here and I'll get my address book." She started to close the door. I asked if I could come in, since it was so cold and rainy. She thought about it for a second, then let me in. I don't understand people. Just because I'm young and a girl, people think I'm not going to hurt them or rip them off. If there's one thing being in this business has taught me, it's to not open the fucking door and definitely don't let anyone in.

I came inside, and I looked around in shock. I thought Rube's place was cluttered. This shit was out of control. She had piles of things. Piles of plastic bags, piles of clothes, and stacks of newspapers reaching up to the ceiling. There was a path through the piles of stuff, but otherwise there's no way you'd be able to get from one room to another. And she did it all without being able to see. She was rummaging through a drawer and came out with a little book. I guess it was in braille. She read it for a minute and shook her head.

"What did you say your mother's name was?"

"Kathy. With a K." That's the way I always said it. I hadn't thought about her in a long time. I changed schools a lot because my mom's job had us moving until I was in ninth grade, and she got a permanent job in Las Vegas. Every time I started at a new school I had to explain to the office that my last name was Raley, but my mom's was Wollrath. No, I wasn't Raley-Wollrath, and my mom wasn't Kathy Wollrath Raley. Then one of the office ladies would say Cathy with a C? And I would say, no, Kathy with a K.

"It looks like I'm the only K. in the family." She put the book away again.

"That's okay. Thanks for checking." I stood there awkwardly, not sure how I was going to pop her soul. I didn't want to just sneak up on her and touch her. That wouldn't be nice. Not that I cared about being nice. I just didn't want to give an old blind lady the creeps, even if she was as weird as this one seemed to be. She came to open the door again, and I reached for her hand, like I was going to shake it. I surprised her.

"I'm Jane," I said suddenly.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry I couldn't help you, Jane. I hope you find who you're looking for."

"Thanks." I took her soul while I was shaking her hand, and she gave me a funny look.

"You be careful driving in this weather," She said quietly. I said I would, and then I was outside again on the porch and the door was closed and locked behind me. I waited for a few minutes, smoking a cigarette. Then I heard the sound I was waiting for: A crash, like something had fallen from the ceiling. Then I heard moaning. If there's something I can't stand, it's deaths that get drawn out. K. Wollrath had been crushed by her own piles of trash, but she wasn't dead yet. I know that taking the soul before death kept them from remembering any of the painful details, but it didn't keep me from remembering. I could imagine this going one way: Badly. Souls don't have the handicaps that their bodies did, and they see things a lot more clearly than they did when they were alive. She'd look at me and know I had been lying, and I'd have to explain that I had to say whatever would let me get close enough to reap her. Then she'd say, didn't you hear me in there, why didn't you call an ambulance? And I would have to say that I couldn't. It was part of the job, no interfering in life and death.

I couldn't deal with it. I didn't want to wait around for her to suffocate or bleed to death or whatever was about to happen. I didn't want to explain everything and then wait to escort her soul to the pretty lights, so I didn't. I left. I got back in George's car, which was warm because she'd left the heater running. She asked if everything went okay, and I said it had. Then my phone rang again, and I looked at it. Rube was calling again. I hit ignore. Then I called 911. I told the operator that I hadn't seen K. Wollrath in a few weeks, and that I heard some suspicious noises coming from her house, and could someone please come out and check on her? I knew she'd be dead by the time anyone came out, but I wanted someone to know she'd died, besides me.

When I hung up George was giving me a look but she didn't ask any questions. I asked if I could smoke in her car and she said okay. Then she declared that she needed to get drunk, and would I be interested in getting drunk with her? I looked at my watch. It was 9:29. I was supposed to be back at the apartment at ten, but I guess George didn't know that. I said sure. George wanted to check out a band that was playing at the Crocodile Cafe, which was supposed to be some kind of grunge landmark. So we went. I didn't think about what would happen when I didn't come home by curfew. I just wanted to drink and forget about had happened.


	11. Chapter 11

The bouncer at the Croc didn't card, which was awesome. That's about the only part that was awesome about that night.

The show turned out to be lame. The band started playing like an hour and a half late. George and I smoked and bitched at each other and drank, and between us I think we had six beers and six shots of tequila. It probably wasn't the smartest idea, but I didn't care. I needed to get drunk. I needed to forget about the way that last reap made me feel. George, of course, had her own problems that she wanted to forget about. We ended up talking to a couple of scruffy looking guys. I'm guessing they were in college. I could tell by the way they looked. They were both wearing Redhawks sweatshirts and those stupid rubber sandals that a certain kind of person wears all day every day even when it's thirty degrees outside.

It was kind of fun hanging out with George. It had been a while since I'd hung out with anyone close to my own age. We talked about normal stuff, like music and movies. It turns out we both really like the Saw movies. Who knew?

It was after one o'clock before the band started their sound check, and George and I were both tired of waiting and drunk and we agreed that the band sucked anyway. So we yelled that they did in fact sucked, and I guess I'm a pretty loud drunk because after a few minutes the club manager told us to leave. I told him to go fuck himself and that his shitty club charged too much for drinks anyway, and we left. Well, we didn't actually leave. We stood in front of the club smoking and trying to decide what to do next. Those guys followed us out. I think they had the mistaken impression that we liked them? I don't know. I did let one of them buy me a couple of drinks, but it's not like we were on a date. I don't even remember his name. I can't remember a lot about that night. See that part when I pounded about eight drinks in three hours.

Anyway, one of the guys, the shorter one, was giving George a hard time. He wasn't keeping his hands to himself, and he would not get the fucking hint that the girl was not interested. I could see this spiraling down into a bad after school special about binge drinking and date rape: "The Girl Who Drank Too Much". Dude was saying that he thought George wanted to party, and why don't they go somewhere alone, and George and I were laughing hysterically at how pathetic he was. He tried to put his arm around her shoulder, and she pushed him. He tried again and she pushed him again. I was getting annoyed. Then he pushed her back, which made me officially go crazy on him.

Looking back, we probably should have called it a night and just gone home. Again, I guess my judgment was kind of impaired by the eight drinks I had.

I yelled something, probably something heroic like "Don't you fucking push her!", and I took a few steps and kicked as hard as I could in his groin area. My foot connected with something soft and he yelped, but then I slipped on some ice and fell. George tried to help me up but the dude I kicked took a swing and hit her in the ear, which I know from experience hurts A LOT. I got to my feet and I jumped on the guy, punching anything I could reach. The other guy tried to pull me off and grabbed me around the neck. I scratched the hell out of his face and he let me go, and I turned around and punched him in the face as hard as I could. I caught his front teeth and seriously messed up his mouth and my hand.

I don't think these guys expected to get into a fist fight with two drunk girls. They seemed... surprised. The guy I punched had one hand over his mouth and the other around my neck. The one who'd pushed George was on the ground cradling his junk in his hands. George took off her shoe and started hitting him with it.

The next thing I knew, I was literally being picked up by the waist and carried away by the club's bouncer, who was yelling that if we didn't get the fuck out of his sight he was going to call the fucking cops. He dropped me on my ass a few feet away and George hobbled over to help me. The two guys were talking to each other about calling the cops anyway, and I decided we should probably get out of there.

I guess I looked pretty fucked up, because George asked me if I was okay. We hiked up the sidewalk, George walking funny because she'd lost the heel of her shoe when she used it as a weapon. We got to her car and I looked in the side mirror at myself. I didn't look too bad. I had a split lip and a gash under my right eye, but I knew those would heal up in a day or two. They were bleeding a lot, but I wiped it with the sleeve of my shirt so it was okay. My hand was another story. The skin was split across my knuckles and all bloody and all my fingers were swollen. I tried to flex my fingers and I couldn't.

"What's that?" George pointed at something stuck in my hand and I pulled it out.

"I think it's part of a tooth. Holy shit." I held up the bloody piece and George and I stared at it. I ended up throwing it out the window.

George slumped over the steering wheel. "I am too drunk to drive."

"I can drive."

"You're drunk too! You're just as drunk as I am."

I tried to look confident. "I can drive. I can! I've driven way drunker than this before."

That was true, but that doesn't mean it also wasn't the dumbest thing I've ever said.

George said no thanks to that. Probably smart of her.

I agreed with her. We sat in the car for a little while longer, talking about what happened. At some point we decided it was pretty funny, and we started laughing which was a mistake because when we started we couldn't stop.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked after we'd been laughing for several minutes.

"That is a question," George said. "Would you like to ask another one?" She laughed again. Very funny.

"What did this guy do? The one you you're so mad at."

She groaned and told me the story of this guy, Trip. He edits obituaries for the local paper. George reaped his dad, they got involved, and she told him her real name. It was only a matter of time until he realized that she'd given him a dead girl's name, and that was it. He felt humiliated, pissed off, and he came looking for her. He left her a nasty note at work and when they ran into each other earlier that day he called her a psycho. The way George was carrying on, you'd think he broke her heart after only one night together.

"Wait." I looked at her. "It wasn't your first time, was it?"

"No." She said defensively.

We sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Maybe. So what? Why, how many guys have you done it with?

"Uh... I don't know. A few."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "How many are a few? You're only like sixteen!"

"I'm seventeen. Haven't you ever heard that age is only a number?"

"Well, that's seriously disturbing. How old where you when you, this sounds totally stupid, but how old were you when you..." Her voice kind of trailed off. "Forget it. I guess you're right. If I'd lived I would have been almost twenty now. I always thought I would have traveled, you know? Seen places. I thought about joining the Peace Corps. Not really. Once or twice. What about you? What would you have been doing if you hadn't died?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'd still be in school." I didn't go into details. My previous life was never something I liked talking about. I was just grateful that we weren't talking about how we died, our families, or things like that. I hate talking about that.

George cocked her head at me. "How'd you even find time for a sex life? I was always at school or at home with my parents. They would have freaked out if I they had known that their little girl was having sex."

Great. I changed the subject. "I'm hungry. Where can we get some food? If I get something to eat I'd be sober enough to drive."

There was only one place we knew of that served food that late. We got a cab, and the driver didn't even give us a second look. I think that taxi driving must be a really interesting job to have if you don't even care that your fare is two bloody girls, one of whom makes you pull the cab over so she can puke on the curb. We got to Der Waffle Haus, and saw Mason and Rube sitting in their usual booth. I wondered what they were doing there. I tried to back up, but Rube had already seen us. He glared at me, and I wanted to turn and walk out of the diner. I really didn't want to deal with him, but I decided that it would be easier to deal with him while I was still drunk so I followed George in.

"Peanut," Rube said to George. He always calls her that. It's sickening. "You look like hell. What happened to you two?"

George took a seat next to him as she answered. "We've been in a brawl. It was my first brawl, but I'm guessing Jane has been in a few." She was obviously giving me a hard time. I made a face at her.

"I can only guess by the way you two smell that alcohol had something to do with this." Rube said disapprovingly. As if he ever says anything approvingly.

George ignored him. "A boy picked on me, so Jane beat the shit out of him."

Mason thought that was pretty funny. "Ah, dispensing justice the drunk, angry, old-fashioned way! Like Charles Bronson in Death Wish!"

"I've seen that movie!" I said. "It's sick."

Mason agreed with me, then he noticed my hand. "Oh my god, look at that. Your hand is seriously fucked up."

I held up my fist. "I broke someone's teeth."

"Looks like you broke your hand, too. You should have tucked your thumb under. Look." Mason grabbed my left hand and curled my fingers over my thumb, and explained what I apparently did wrong to fuck up my hand. George watched us and practiced making a fist too.

Rube snorted. "It's a really bad idea to take Mason's word on this."

"What? I've boxed. Have you boxed, Rube? I've boxed. I boxed at the Y.M.C.A. when I was fifteen."

"Fine, you're an expert. You're Cassius fucking Clay. As much fun as this is, I'm going to have to call it a night." He took out his wallet and threw some bills on the table. I got up so he could get out of the booth, and he grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the diner toward the door. George yelled that she needed a ride back to her car, but Rube just ignored her and pulled me along.

I feel like this is my life: Constantly being grabbed by Rube and shoved, pushed and dragged where he wants me to go.

He didn't say anything, just dragged me to his truck and told me to get in.

"Aren't you going to, you know, yell at me or threaten me or whatever?" I asked as he unlocked the passenger door.

"We'll talk about it in the morning. You're too drunk right now."

"I am not that drunk!" I said, and then I turned and threw up on the asphalt.

"Let me guess then," Rube said sarcastically when I was done puking. "Stomach virus?"

I glared at him and let him help me into the truck. We didn't talk until we got to the apartment. He'd left the lights on in the living room, and it was kind of nice to come in from the cold to someplace that looked cheerful even though I knew that I was in a lot of trouble. I headed to my room and Rube followed me a few seconds later, carrying a box. It was a first aid kit.

"That hand will heal a lot faster if you wrap it. It'll hurt less, too." He put the kit on the bed. I told him that I didn't know how.

Rube cursed under is breath and sat down on the bed, and made me sit down next to him. He took out some bandages and picked up my busted hand. He turned it over and started wrapping it. It took a couple of minutes.

"I tried calling you," Rube said suddenly. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I thought we weren't going to talk about it until tomorrow."

He glared at me and finished wrapping my hand, then he took some cotton balls and iodine out of the kit and made me sit still while he cleaned up my lip and the cut under my eye. It stung.

"You bled like a stuck pig. Didn't anyone ever tell you that alcohol is a blood thinner?"

I said that it hurt and why did he keep a first aid kit anyway, since it's not like he could get an infection or bleed to death or anything. He said he just liked being prepared. When he was done he stood up, packed up the kit and told me to get into my pajamas. He said the word with long vowels, like pah-jah-mahs. I laughed at him.

"Pajamas? I don't have any pajamas."

"What do you sleep in, then?"

"My underwear. Like normal people."

He looked at me for a few seconds before he cursed again. He told me to take off my pants. I thought he was going to make me bend over for a whipping, but all he did was help me get under the covers. He disappeared for a minute and came back with a glass of water, some pills and a pan. He put the pan by my bed "for throw up". I asked him what the pills were, and he said just to swallow the fucking things, I'll be happy I did in a couple of hours when the hangover kicked in. So I did, and I watched him fold my pants and pick up my socks. Rube wasn't a bad looking guy, I decided. He's old, sure, and his hair is thinning a little. Other than that, he is kind of good looking. Tall. Fit. He has brown eyes. I've always had a thing for guys with brown eyes.

I wondered if he had a girlfriend. I never knew a reaper who didn't have some kind of love life. So I asked him.

"Hey, why do you wear a wedding ring?"

Rube sat down on the edge of the bed. "Because I was married."

"When? Before you died?"

"Yes. Why are you asking so many questions?"

"Just wondering. What's the matter? You don't like talking about it?"

He tucked the covers in around my legs. "No I don't. Go to sleep."

I sat up. "I guess you don't have a girlfriend."

He gave me a funny look. "That's none of your business."

"So you do have a girlfriend."

"That's it, you can stay up talking to yourself if you want. I'm going to bed. You make me tired." He stood up.

"Do you like me?"

Rube stopped, looked at me and crossed his arms. "Excuse me?"

I suddenly felt stupid. "I said..."

"I heard you. What are you trying to ask me?"

"It's not like it's a trick question. You either like me or you don't."

"You think if I didn't like you I'd go to all this trouble to keep you from fucking up?"

"That's not what I meant." I leaned back on the pillow. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Rube got a weird look on his face. I've never seen that look before. He sat back down on the bed and pulled the covers up to my neck kind of roughly. The he said he had something to tell me, and I probably wouldn't remember it in the morning, which was good because I probably wouldn't want to. It turned out he was right about the second part but wrong about the first part. He talked really slowly, I guess because he thinks I'm stupid.

"Let's get one thing straight between us. I'm your boss and you're a member of my crew. That's it. We're never going to be anything else to each other, because I learned a long time ago not to shit where I eat. You know what that means? If you don't, you'd better figure it out right quick."

He was really mad. He was doing that thing with his voice where he was making it all scary and serious without yelling. What's that called? I don't know. Simmering.

"I'm not your friend, I'm not your daddy, I'm not your fairy godmother. I am not Bill Holden, and you sure as fuck aren't Judy Holliday. I've know a dozen reapers just like you and I'll know a dozen more before whoever is in charge decides that I've filled my quota. I think we've already established that I'm smarter than you. I know everything you're going to do before you do it. I am unplayable." He paused. "Do not fuck with me."

I couldn't help but be a little shocked. Rube stood up. "Now, go to sleep before you say something you'll regret."

He turned out the light but left the door open. I tried to sleep but I couldn't. I could hear him moving around in the living room, probably changing into his pajamas, then his snoring. I wondered how he could sleep after a night like this. I eventually dozed off, but it seemed like I only got a few minutes of sleep before the sun came up.


	12. Chapter 12

Rube is pissed. PISSED. He just came back from a reap. I was reading in my room and I heard him come in and he came and stood in the doorway glaring at me until I looked up. I could tell he was angry.

He asked me if I had a nice afternoon, and I said sure, and then he said that was good, guess what he was doing while I was laying around all day? He was stuck on I-5 in the rain waiting for a tow truck for an hour because the transmission fell out of his truck. I have no idea what that means, but I guess it has something to do with the way I drove his truck to Las Vegas. I admit that it took me a while to get the hang of driving a stick shift, but I pointed out that his truck is ancient. It's like, 30 years old at least. He yelled that it wasn't the original engine, are you stupid?! And then he stomped off down the hall.

Then he stomped back to the doorway and pointed at me. "You're going to pay for the tow truck, the new transmission and any other repairs, and you're going to work for that money. I've had that truck longer than you've been alive, and you'd better believe it's worth more to me than any punk dead girl. You'd better start checking those want ads."

Then he stomped away again. If he'd stayed, I would have asked him how I was supposed to get a decent job, since I looked like I was seventeen and didn't have a high school diploma. I probably could have finished school. I'm sure I could have. I didn't exactly like it, it's not like it was fun or anything, but it was better than having a job. It was definitely better than being a reaper.

Here's another fact about me. I skipped the fourth grade. For real. I don't know what my teacher was thinking. Of course, fourth grade was the year you're supposed to learn long division and I didn't, so my grades kind of went downhill after that. Well, that and my mom's boyfriend at the time, Larry, ended up stealing her checkbook and wrote like eight thousand dollars worth of bad checks all over Inyo county and Mom and I ended up moving to Nevada instead of dealing with it. She was like that. She always pretended that her problems weren't really problems. I guess I'm kind of like that too. I guess I got it from her. Some people want to go over their problems with everyone they meet, and then go over them again and again. I really don't. I'd rather just pretend that my problems didn't exist.

I think that's one way that me and Rube are alike. I guess it's the only way. We both don't talk about our problems. He keeps to himself and I keep to myself. Usually. I mean, I still haven't talked to Rube or anyone about why I was so upset when I reaped that blind lady. I did not want to think about it, although I kind of had to when I woke up the next morning and I wasn't drunk anymore.

My hangover that morning actually wasn't too bad. I guess my undead metabolism took care of that. My hand was better too. It didn't hurt as much, and when I took the bandages off I saw that the skin had mostly grown back together over my knuckles. So it wasn't a bad morning exactly - It was the ass beating that I knew was coming that made it kind of a drag. Rube held off on that until after breakfast (cinnamon waffles with extra extra crispy bacon which I actually kind of enjoyed. I was hungrier every day, since I wasn't taking pills any more). He acted totally normal the whole morning, like I'd never gotten drunk and tried to come on to him, and he'd never basically ripped me a new asshole in response.

He didn't ask me about my reap, and I was glad. I really didn't want to talk to him about it.

Rube went back to his favorite one-two-three method. He made me bend over the arm of a chair with my pants around my ankles while he lectured me. I tried to bargain with him at first. I said that if he just forgot about everything and didn't whip me, I would do whatever he wanted. I would stay in my room every day, or I would do all of his laundry for a month or whatever. He didn't go for it.

"I can see that these little talks are having their desired effect." He's such a jerk.

The lecture wasn't too long, and I was surprised that he wasn't mad at me for getting drunk and fighting. The only thing I was getting whipped for was not answering my phone when Rube called and coming in late. Four and a half hours late. I guess technically I didn't come in at all, since I just ran into Rube by accident. Anyway, I tried to tell him that I couldn't answer the phone because I was busy reaping my soul, like I was supposed to. He said that he was tired of my excuses. I said, what excuses? Because really, I've never HAD to make excuses yet. This was sort of the first time I've ever made excuses to anyone.

Step two, after telling me to just shut up, was the whipping. This was the hardest one yet, although not as long or drawn out. It seemed like Rube just wanted to get it over with. He brought the belt down hard and fast. After a couple of dozen licks it was over and he told me to stand up. I had gotten used to the searing fucking pain and didn't cry or yell or anything, I just breathed really hard and pulled my pants up and turned around.

"Would it kill you to use your hand instead?"

At the time I had forgotten just how much Rube's hand hurt.

Rube said that if he had, I'd be a lot worse off. Then he told me I had better get to work on my punishment. That was step three.

As usual, Rube didn't consider the whipping the actual punishment, and he said that the actual punishment was me being 'on punishment'. What does that even mean? He had his eighteen fucking pairs of sneakers in a basket, and he gave me a toothbrush and a tub of white sneaker polish and told me to clean all of them. They looked pretty clean to begin with, but he told me he'd be inspecting my work. So I had to sit down and clean every on of his fucking sneakers. Some of them looked like they'd only been worn once or twice. I have no idea what his deal is with the stupid shoes, but of course I end up suffering for it.

It took me a couple of hours to get through all of that cleaning, and by then I was sick of looking at sneakers, and I was sorry I had ever thought it was a good idea to get drunk. Even though that's not what I was being punished for to begin with. While I was cleaning I had a lot of time to think, and I was also bored so I ended up talking to Rube even though he was kind of the last person I wanted to talk to.

"Hey. How come you didn't beat me for getting drunk and fighting?"

Rube barely looked up from his newspaper. "I don't beat you. I whip you. I spank you for misbehaving. I don't beat you."

"Fine, you don't beat me." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm getting sick of you accusing me of beating you like I'm some kind of monster."

"Okay, I said fine!" I threw one of the sneakers into the basket, a little too hard. I picked up a different sneaker and started scrubbing the imaginary scuff marks. "So how come you didn't whip me for getting drunk and fighting?"

"I didn't tell you not to get drunk and fight, did I?"

"So you don't care."

Rube made an irritated noise as he turned the page in that newspaper. "I told you to answer your phone when I called, and I told you not to be late. While you were out on a tear I was waiting to see what kind of mess you were making. You're a pretty predictable disappointment."

I looked at him, reading that paper like it was the most natural thing in the world to have a live-in slave who he could boss around and insult whenever he wanted.

After a few minutes I spoke again. "I was pretty drunk last night. Sorry if I said anything."

He didn't look up. "Forget about it."

"Because I can't really remember what happened. I was at the bar with George, and then I was like back here, and I can't really remember what happened."

"I said forget about it."

So that was that. I finished cleaning the shoes. Rube checked my work like he promised he'd do and told me it was good enough. I went back to bed for a while. I was exhausted.

A few hours later, Rube woke me up by pounding on the door. He told me that we had somewhere to be. I was really groggy and I was in a bad mood. Rube didn't seem to notice. He told me to get in the truck, and we drove to a mall. We got out and I followed him into a department store. I guess I thought that he was there to reap somebody, so I was waiting for him to find his mark so we could leave and I could go back to sleep. We ended up in the kid's section, and he looked around with a confused expression on his face.

"What?" I said. I looked around and noticed a young mom shopping with a little girl who seemed to be about three or four. She also had a baby in a stroller. Both kids were dressed up in really girly outfits, like head to toe pink with ruffles. "Is that her? Are you going to reap her or what?"

"We're not here to reap anyone," He said quietly. "We're here so you can get some new duds."

I guess it took me a little too long to figure out what he was saying. Rube rubbed the side of his head like he had a headache.

"Don't leave your mouth hanging open; you're scaring the little ones."

"Uh... I don't have any money." That was true. I'd spent all of the fifty-seven dollars I'd gotten from Mason at the bar the night before.

"Don't worry about that." He pulled me to the side so that the mom and her stroller could get into a rack of clearance shorts. She looked at us curiously. Rube said in a hushed voice that I needed to find something nice to wear, like I was going to see my grandma on a Sunday. I said I didn't have a grandma, and he said that it didn't matter, and then I asked why I needed something nice to wear and he said that I asked too many questions and to just do as he said. The whole time the mom kept looking at us out of the corner of her eye, and her little girl hid behind the stroller. I'm guess we looked weird, arguing in the children's section of a department store in the middle of the day. I had to ask one more question.

"Okay, why are we in the kid's section?"

Rube literally threw his hands up in the air. "You know what, you figure it out. You have thirty minutes. I'll meet you by that register." He pointed. "Get something nice. Something that doesn't show too much skin. Just... Just get whatever you need."

He paused. I waited.

"Well, shake a leg! We don't have all day." He gave me a push, and I headed over to the junior's section. I tried to hurry, but it was hard because I didn't know exactly what I was supposed to pick out. I knew I had to get a dress or skirt. I normally just wear jeans and a t-shirt, so it's kind of tough for me to figure out what is going to look good. And I didn't know how much money to spend. I looked around for a while and grabbed an armful of things and took them to the fitting room. I guess I looked suspicious, because a sales lady followed me and asked if I needed any help. I ignored her.

I dumped all of the clothes on the floor and started trying them on. This is where I discovered that the days of eating regular meals was kind of having an affect on me. I wasn't able to get into my regular size. I normally wear a size 8. But when I was trying to put on jeans I could barely squeeze into them. I was so fucking pissed at Rube and his fucking pancakes and waffles and oatmeal, and all the other things he made me eat. I hated feeling like this, like I had no control over what was happening to me. It wasn't just having to eat every day and not being able to drink or take whatever, or go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted. It was the feeling that I had no options. It was Rube's way or no way at all. I've never had to deal with that before. I couldn't do what I wanted to do because almost everything I wanted to do would make Rube whip me. I hated it. I felt trapped, and not just because the skirt was too tight. I was so mad and frustrated that I started to cry.

I must have been in there for a long time, because my cell phone rang and when I looked at the caller ID it was Rube. I answered it while I was trying to zip up a silk skirt. He sounded irritated.

"I'm about out of patience with you, Jane. Where are you?"

"Give me a break, all right? I'm trying to get some clothes that fucking fit, and nothing does because of all of the fucking waffles you make me eat."

"What now?"

"I can't do this!" I tried to wiggle the skirt lower onto my hips, and then I said a bunch of curse words - I don't remember exactly, it's not important.

"Where are you? The fitting room?"

The sales lady knocked on the door and asked if I needed any help. I yelled that I didn't, and then I told Rube that this whole thing was fucking ridiculous. I wiggled out of the skirt and started trying on a blouse that seemed to match. I couldn't get the buttons to reach across my chest.

"Shit!"

The sales lady knocked again. "Miss? Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine! Fuck Rube, I can't fucking do this! This is all your fault! I'm a fucking fatass and it's your fault!" I started sobbing louder. That was the only time I've cried in front of Rube, even though it was just over the phone. Even when he's beating my ass I haven't cried.

"Don't get in a lather. I'll be right there." He hung up. I threw the cell phone at the wall.

The knocking turned into pounding. "Miss, open the door please! I'm going to call security!"

I cursed again and ripped the blouse off, then threw it at the door. I picked up my own clothes and started putting them on. The pounding suddenly stopped and I heard Rube talking to the sales lady, who sounded really freaked out.

"Sir, you can't come back here! This is a women's fitting room!"

He must have convinced her that she didn't want to try to deal with this on her own, because she got out of the way and let him knock on the door.

"Jane, open the door."

I did. I must have looked like a total freak, with the clothes everywhere and my face all red. My nose was running. Rube reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handkerchief (I had to look that word up because I had no idea how to spell it. Where I grew up it was just called a snot rag). He handed it to me and started picking up the clothes I thrown on the floor. The sales lady was looking over his shoulder nervously at us.

"You like all of these?" He asked. I wiped my nose and nodded.

When Rube had a big pile of clothes in his arms, her turned and shoved them at her. "Can we get each of these is a size larger?" The woman nodded and looked relieved that Rube had taken control of the situation. She turned to go.

"Wait!" I tried not to sound like I was whining. "That's not my size! I wear a size eight."

Rube glanced at me. "Sure. No one's saying you don't. Calm down. Oh Miss, we'll also need some long sleeved pajamas and a coat. Use your judgment. Something nice. As you can see, we're in no shape to make those kinds of decisions."

He turned to me. "Do you need new underwear?"

I stared at him in horror.

He turned back to the sales lady. "No underwear. Thank you."

He closed the door and watched me put my shoes on. "You know, it used to be that you'd walk into a department store and you'd tell the shop girl what you wanted, and then you'd have a comfortable place to sit and wait while she brought it to you."

I just sniffed. I was embarrassed that I had broken down in front of him. He kept talking.

"In the bigger stores they had models on staff. If you were looking for something to wear to the cotillion, you'd sit down and watch the models trot out in their gowns. None of this standard size shit off the rack. Everything was tailored once you bought it. It was a different experience. A more refined experience."

I should have said something smart, like I thought that the pilgrims didn't have Macy's, but I didn't think of it at the time. I was too miserable. I picked my phone up off the floor and followed him out of the fitting room. We went to the register and waited for the sales lady, who was still running around grabbing the things that Rube ordered for me. She came up to the register holding a fuck ugly maroon nylon coat. Rube gave her the thumbs up and I was too stressed out to say anything.

While we were waiting for the lady to ring us up, the mom with her all-pink kids and stroller got in line behind us and stared at us. She had a look on her face like she tasted something bad. While she was staring she was talking on her cell phone to someone. She was talking pretty loud.

"It was crazy. I could hear them in the fitting room," She said. "Everyone in the store could. This is a family store, you know. I don't bring my girls here so that they'll be exposed to that kind of language."

Rube turned around, but he saw she was talking on the phone and just shook his head and turned back.

"I just don't think it's a good parenting choice to reward that kind of behavior." She was looking at the pile of clothes on the counter. "I know! If my Sophie acted like that, I'd leave without buying anything. She's only three and she knows better than that! She'd never throw that kind of tantrum, and I would never put up with it."

I wanted to tell the bitch to her to go fuck herself. I guess Rube could tell what I was thinking, because he put his hand on my shoulder. The sales lady rang up the clothes and I almost shit myself when the total came to more than four hundred dollars. Rube just got out his wallet and took out cash. I don't know how he carries around so much cash without being paranoid.

We grabbed the bags and I started to walk toward the door when Rube turned around to face the woman, who was still talking into her cell phone.

"Excuse me," Rube said. "Can I have your phone number?"

The woman stared at him. "What?"

"And the number for your friend, too. I want to be able to call and let you know how this all worked out, since you're both so interested in things that aren't any of your business."

"Uh, it is my business if that girl can't control her mouth around my children." She looked at me like I was something a dog left on the sidewalk.

Rube nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, and I'll deal with it, but it really isn't any of your concern. What is your concern is the fact that your daughter's only three and she already knows that her mother is an out of control raving bitch. Kids will be kids, but adults know better than to stick their noses in where they're not welcome. Why don't you worry about setting a good example for your kids instead of bitching about everyone else's?"

She stared at Rube with her mouth open.

"You have a nice day."

I wore that ugly coat out of the store and I didn't complain at all.

Rube just came back and tossed the want ads section of the paper on my bed. I guess I'd better figure out what I'm going to do.


	13. Chapter 13

I haven't written in this thing in a couple of days because I have been out looking for a J-O-B. I can't believe it. I never thought that I would ever get a job. I have been hitting every fast food place, coffee house and retail store within walking distance of the apartment. I have filled out something like twelve applications. No one's called me back. Rube says that I'm failing on purpose, and that I need to have a better attitude about the whole thing. Yesterday he handed me the bill from the mechanic for his truck repairs. Eight hundred and fifty dollars. I told him he was getting ripped off. He said, no, I was the one getting ripped off!

He said he'd pay it, but I'd have to pay him back at ten percent interest compounded monthly. Once I get a job I'm supposed to give him every paycheck until it's paid off. This sucks. Minimum wage is high in this state, but at $7.37 an hour working part time (because Rube won't let me work full time, since I'm reaping too) it will take me at least a month and half to pay it off. And I'll have to wear a paper hat while I do it.

Fuck.

I've never had a job before. I am really not cut out for this. I'm so tired. I don't think I've slept a full night since I've gotten back from Las Vegas. Last night I was awake and I was so bored that I went through the dresser in my room and re-folded and re-organized it. I found the outfit that Rube bought for me that day at the department store. The shirt was missing a button. I looked through the closet and the dresser and I couldn't find it.

It turned out that Rube wanted me to get all dressed up tat day to go to the opera. THE OPERA!!! Rube didn't tell me until we were back at the apartment getting ready to go. THE OPERA. That's where his reap was. I wasn't very happy about that. I had never been to an opera, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I said, what, the experimental puppet theater was sold out? He said just hurry up and get dressed. I asked if people really got dressed up to go to the opera, and he said what did I just say? Get a move on.

I wore the new clothes he bought me, and I even put on makeup and brushed my hair. Rube surprised me by how nice he ended up looking. He was wearing a gray suit. He shaved and put on a tie. I'd never seen him wear a tie before. I told him he looked great.

He looked amused. "You think so?" He spun around and primped for a couple seconds, which I thought was hilarious. Then he saw my shoes.

"What are those?"

"I don't have any nice shoes." I looked at my black Chuck Taylors. "These are pretty much it."

"Why didn't you say anything while we were out?"

"I didn't think about it."

Rube sighed and looked at my hand.

"How's your hand? Stiffness gone?"

"Mostly."

"You want me to give you a couple of tips?"

"Tips?"

"If you knew how to throw a punch that wouldn't have happened to your hand."

"Mason showed me how."

"Mason showed you how to get your thumb broken. You want to know how to throw a real punch?"

"Sure." I wasn't really sure, but I figured I had nothing to lose.

Rube told me to stand like him, with my feet apart and my knees bent. He made me put my hands up in front of me, so I'd "be ready to defend myself", that it would hurt a lot worse to block a blow with my arms than with my face. He showed me how to make a fist without tucking my thumb under and to hold my fist at an angle.

"Good. That's good. Now when you strike, try to strike with the flat part of your fist, between the knuckles. Try not to actually hit me with your knuckles, okay? Now give it a try. Hit me."

He stood in front of me and waited. I shrugged and hit him in the chest with my good hand. He acted like he didn't even notice.

"That's no good. You've got no power behind it. When you hit me, throw your weight into it. Not just your arm, your whole body. Try to aim for something behind me, and really drive your fist like you expect to reach it. Try again."

"Maybe we shouldn't do this." I felt ridiculous pretending to hit him while I was all dressed up, and I was worried that we might be late for his reap if we took too long.

He smiled. "You're not going to hurt me, kid. Come on. Hit me."

I hadn't been worried about that at all, but I shrugged again and did like he told me. I shifted my weight and threw it all in the next punch. Rube staggered back a step.

"Nice." He gasped.

"You want me to do it again?"

He said no, that was more than enough for now, and then he showed me a couple of different ways to avoid getting hit. He had me throw up my fists like I was going to hit him, and each time he would step out of the way or back, or he would push my fist out of the way when it came towards him. He was really agile and I was getting tired. He showed me that if you got really close to the person who was trying to hit you, it was a lot harder for them to get a good punch in.

He finally asked me if I had any questions. I said no.

"Good," He said casually. "One more thing: I don't mind you defending yourself, but if I find out that you're getting drunk and fighting, you're going to be a lot worse off than you were last night. You got that?"

I nodded. I was tired and cranky and annoyed that Rube acted almost nice for a minute before taking yet another chance to bust my balls.

We left for the opera. It was at the Seattle Center on Mercer. I'd been there once or twice, just hanging around for various reasons but I'd never been there at night. It was pretty. The place was all lit up, and there was a big banner hanging over the entrance with the name of the opera on it. Rube said it was Czech, and he told me that it was called "The Markopoulos Case". I made the mistake of saying, "You know Czechoslovakian?" and then I got a lecture about how there is no Czechoslovakian language, there is Czech and there is Slovakian, and I said well which one do you speak, and he said a little of both.

I didn't get a chance to ask about that. We parked in the big center parking garage and made our way into the theater through the crowd of opera lovers. We had to look like we belonged there, which meant that I had to act like I wanted to be there. Rube picked up a program and showed the dude with the flashlight our tickets. The usher tried to show up to our seats, but Rube pulled out a little penlight and said he had it covered. We found our seats, which were right in the middle of a row so we had to slide by people, which I hate.

We waited for a while and I looked around. Most of the people there were older, but there were a few kids with their parents or teenagers who looked like they could be students. College students, probably, taking a really boring music class. I wanted a cigarette really bad.

The lights dimmed and they started playing the overture. That's the music that they play before the opera starts, which means I still had to stare at the empty stage. I asked Rube quietly if they sold popcorn here. He shushed me, very rudely. The overture finished and the opera started. Thank fucking god they were singing it in English, or else I never would have been able to figure out what was going on, but it was still kind of hard to follow along. I noticed Rube take out his penlight a couple of times and check his watch. Suddenly he leaned over and whispered that we had to go. We got up and squeezed our way out of the seats into the aisle while the soprano on stage sang about having been alive for 300 years. We made our way up the aisle. I followed Rube through the lobby. He held his hand up to get me to stay back while he disappeared into a side door that was marked "no entry". I waited for about ten minutes. When Rube didn't come back out, I decided just to go outside and smoke.

It was raining. There were a few other smokers keeping dry under the eaves. I stood a little ways away from them and smoked. After two cigarettes, Rube came out of the front doors with the soul of his reap following him. I could tell he was looking for me. He raised his eyebrows and walked over to where I was standing.

"What took so long?" I asked.

"Messy accident." Rube said. "Took Artie here quite a while to expire, didn't it Artie?" He was talking to a confused looking older guy in a jumpsuit. I guessed he did some kind of backstage stuff - lighting or something. I didn't really want to ask. I didn't really want to know who he was.

Artie's lights didn't show up after a few minutes, so we waited. I don't know what the deal is with that. With some newlydeads it takes a long time, and with some it's really fast, like almost immediate and the lights show up almost as soon as the souls leave their bodies. Artie was kind of dazed and sort of sad looking. He stood against the wall watching while I smoked another cigarette. I got kind of creeped out by him just staring at us.

"What's his problem?" I asked Rube. "Why doesn't he just go already?"

"What's your hurry?" Rube said.

I noticed that Artie was still slumped against the wall with a sad look on his face. I felt kind of sorry for the guy, so I figured I would make conversation with him.

"You worked at the opera, huh?" I asked him. "So what's that opera about, anyway?"

He looked confused. "I'm dead."

"Yeah."

"I'm dead and you're making small talk."

"What am I supposed to do? You're just standing there staring at us. It's depressing."

Rube glared at me. "That's really nice, Jane. Why don't you shut up?" He turned to Artie. "I'd like to apologize for my friend, sir, she's young and angry."

"Like you aren't angry." I muttered.

Artie looked like he wished he was someplace else. "I don't understand. Are you two supposed to be angels or something?"

"Angels!" I said. "You wish! There's no such thing as angels!"

Rube gave me a dirty look. "You know kid, you don't know half as much as you think you do. I've already told you once to shut up. I'm not going to ask again."

"Well thank fucking god for that."

Before he could respond, an ambulance with the siren blaring came around the corner and stopped in front of the center's entrance. We moved back into the shadows to watch. A couple of police cars followed. Artie watched the EMTs and policemen hurry inside with a sad look on his face. "I guess someone found my body."

"I guess so." Rube said. He walked over to where Artie was leaning and put a hand on his shoulder. That's something else I never really understood. We reapers can touch souls and the living don't even know they're there. People walk right through them. I guess to a living person, Rube would have looked pretty funny, standing there with his pipe in one hand and his other hand hovering in mid air. Of course no one was looking at Rube. Everyone was staring at the ambulance and policemen.

"So if you aren't angels, what are you?"

Rube smiled. "Now there's a question. I supposed you could say that we're people just like everyone else."

"No you're not. You're murderers. You're demons."

Rube stopped smiling. "That's a pretty uncharitable thing to say, Artie."

He didn't seem to care. "But you're not human. Not anymore. How did you die?"

"That's not really polite conversation."

"I'm dead! You think I give a flying fuck what polite conversation is?"

"No, I suppose you don't."

"Okay, so when did you die?"

Rube looked like he was trying to decide if he really wanted to be having this conversation with Artie. "Long time ago."

"What about her?" He said, looking at me.

"Not such a long time ago."

"She's so young." He said. "I wasn't expecting to live forever. Shoot, I figure I had maybe another ten or fifteen years, tops. Got a bad heart. But her. She's so young. How can you do it? How can you take people's lives, kids like her and grandpops like me?"

Rube was silent for a moment. "We don't have a choice."

"Hey." I said.

Artie ignored me. "Doesn't it bother you? What do you think about when you look in some kid's eyes while he dies? What kind of existence is this for you?"

"Hey." I said again.

"What kind of existence is this for her? She never had a chance to grow up and have a real life."

"Hey!" I yelled at Artie, startling him. "What's your problem? Leave him alone!"

"What did I tell you?" Rube barked at me. "Go wait by the truck."

I threw my lit cigarette at his feet and stomped away. It was another half an hour before Artie's lights came and Rube came out to the parking garage. By that time, the rest of the opera had been called off because of the emergency workers coming in and out, and the audience had mostly emptied out the garage. I was glad that I had my new coat, even if it was ugly. I sat in the bed of the truck and sent text messages to Mason and George, hoping they were having a better night than I was.

Rube finally mosied over and unlocked the truck doors. "You cold?"

"Yes."

"Good. Maybe you'll listen to me next time I tell you do something."

"Whatever. Did Artie ever leave?" I hopped out of the bed and got into the cab of the truck.

"Yep." He started it and started backing out of the space.

I thought about asking what his lights looked like, but I decided that I didn't really care. "Good. That guy was an asshole."

"You'd got to give people a break sometimes. Death can be very stressful."

"That's what I'm always trying to tell you. You never give me a break."

Rube made an irritated noise. There were a few minutes of silence as we drove.

"You asked about that opera," Rube finally said. "You really want to know what it's about?"

"Sure."

"It's a great story. There's this woman, Emilia, beautiful woman, an opera singer who took a potion that let her live for three hundred years. Over the years she's lived under many names, with many occupations. She has many admirers. Men throw themselves at her feet." He shifted gears at a red light. "At the end of the three hundred years, she looks for another potion. She doesn't want to age. She doesn't want to die. She breaks someone's heart, and he kills himself."

He paused.

"Suicides are the worst, aren't they? They always seem so surprised that pulling a trigger or taking a pill isn't the absolute end of everything. I think they're more disappointed when they find out that there's more after death than they are by dying. You ever notice that? Anyway, someone finally gets suspicious of Emilia and she's forced to reveal the whole sordid story of her life."

He swore under his breath when a white Subaru cut him off at an intersection.

"So what happened?" I asked. "What happened to Emilia?"

"She decides that living forever brings nothing but pain, so she decides not to drink the potion again."

"So she dies."

"Right."

"That is fucked up."

"How so?"

"No one would die if they could help it."

"You're forgetting the aforementioned suicides."

"They can't help it."

"That's surprisingly compassionate, coming from you."

That was the end of the conversation. I thought about Emilia. If I had the chance to stop being a reaper and just disappear, would I? I didn't know. I mean, I guess that's what I was avoiding by doing whatever Rube wanted me to do. I was avoiding the unknown, whatever happened once the gravelings got you. I guessed that it meant whatever was after death, except in this case no pretty lights. The souls seemed to go someplace nice, but who knows? Maybe when their lights disappeared they did too. I think it's ridiculous that I don't know anything about it. I would have thought that an agent of death would have been given a little more information about the whole thing. Maybe Rube was holding out on me, although I doubted it. Santos hadn't known much either.

We stopped for pizza at a place Rube knew downtown that sold it by the slice. It was full of hip looking couples, guys wearing giant ironic glasses and girls carrying purses made out of old neckties, that kind of people. Rube ordered me a plain slice and I looked at it. He told me to eat, and I told him that I was on a diet.

"Oh no you're not." Rube said with his mouth full. He sipped a Coke through a straw.

"No thanks."

"Quit being difficult. Eat. Let's just enjoy ourselves here."

"I'm really not hungry." That wasn't exactly true. I actually really like pizza, and it had been a while since I'd eaten anything that I actually liked.

"Listen kid, you want to make everything into a battle of wills, that's fine with me. You'll never win." He took another bite of his pizza and made a face like it was the best thing he'd ever put in his mouth. I decided just to give up and eat.

"Hey," I said after a few bites. "What do you think happens to the souls after they, you know, go to the lights?"

He looked thoughtful. "Some would say that they go to heaven. Some think they're reincarnated."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"You know, for someone who's been around for so long you don't really have many answers."

I watched him finish his pizza. I decided it was as good a time as any to finally talk to Rube about a transfer. So I did.

"Rube, I want a transfer."

I was expecting him to argue with me or tell me why he thought it was a bad idea, or even to tell me that there was nothing he could do. Instead he just looked at me. He didn't look surprised. "Are you thinking about any place in particular?"

"California. Or Nevada. Or Arizona. Someplace close to home. Someplace it doesn't rain all the fucking time."

"I'll see what I can do." That was it. No arguing like I expected. Rube asked me if I was done, and we went home.

That fucking pizza gave me heartburn.


	14. Chapter 14

I have a job. I just started a lame minimum wage job working at a used DVD store on Market Street. Trader's Movies and Music. I told Rube that I got a job and he looked like he didn't believe me until I showed him my uniform. I have to wear a t-shirt that says "Trader's Makes It Easy" and a nametag that says Astrid. I work from 2pm to 8pm Monday and Wednesday and all day on Saturdays. My boss is named Chet. I've never met anyone named Chet before. He must be 30 and he has a moustache, and he looks at my boobs instead of my face when he's talking to me.

I came into Der Waffle Haus yesterday after my first day and George and Mason were sitting in the booth sharing a plate of fries. They looked up when I came in. First George asked where Rube was, and I said I didn't know. Then Mason asked me what was up with my shirt, and I said I had a job and he laughed and asked me why the fuck I got a fucking job.

I didn't feel like telling the whole story. Luckily George said, "Some of us have bills to pay. Like the water, power, cable. Which reminds me, Mason. You owe me ninety bucks for your share of the utilities this month."

"Where am I going to get ninety dollars?" 

"I don't know." She looked at me. "Jane has a job. Borrow it from her." 

Mason looked at me and I shook my head and said that the money was already spent. I told him that I had been looking for a job for days and I knew that the frozen yogurt place at the mall was hiring unskilled workers. He said that I should quit Trader's and we could go work at the frozen yogurt place together. I said that they have a walk-in freezer and I still couldn't deal with freezers. He and George nodded. It's a long story about that. Actually, it's kind of related to what I was writing about the last time I picked this thing up.

I had just asked Rube for a transfer a couple of days before. He acted kind of weird to me after that. He had just started talking to me like I was a real person, and all of a sudden he was back to ignoring me and treating me like I was a constant pain in his ass. I mean, he was never like chatty or anything, but I felt like he was avoiding me. For example, he saw me in the hall with my toothbrush and he turned around and walked the other way.

One morning it started snowing. The weather guy on TV was going crazy. Snow in the middle of February! Holy fucking shit! You would have thought the sky itself was falling for all the freaking out that people were doing. I'd only seen snow one time, and that was from a car a window when Mom and I were driving past some mountains on our way to Nevada. I've never seen it falling out the sky before. I thought it was beautiful and wonderful and magical looking, like in the movies. All the other reapers were annoyed because any kind of bad weather usually meant more work for us. Even though it was like glittery and pretty outside, Roxy and Rube were both in a bad mood. Rube had extra post-its for everyone that morning. As usual, I only got one and Roxy was seriously pissed.

"How come miss object lesson in what not to do gets rewarded for her bad behavior and I have three reaps before noon?"

"Will you quit your bellyaching?" Rube said, sipping his coffee. "Relax. Your reaps are all within a few miles of each other, you'll be done in a jiffy and back here enjoying some lemon meringue pie before you know it."

Roxy glared at him. "I hate lemon meringue pie."

"Really?" Rube looked surprised. "I thought you liked lemon meringue."

"I love lemon meringue pie," Mason said as he slid into the booth beside me. George waited for Roxy to get up so she could sit down. She was wrapped up in a scarf up to her nose, and she had a knit hat pulled down over her face.

"Where is this pie you're talking about?" She asked.

"It's hypothetical." Roxy said she stood up. "Jesus, Mason. You stink like a men's room floor. Where did you spend the night?"

Mason didn't seem to care. "Men's room floor, mostly. You going to eat your toast?" His hands were filthy and Roxy made a face as he grabbed a piece of toast off of her plate and started eating it.

"Jane." I was surprised that Roxy called me by name. I don't think she's ever said my name before. "You got any drugs that will make Mason less obnoxious?"

I smirked. "Sorry, drugs don't work like that."

Rube didn't think that was funny.

Roxy grabbed all three post-its in one hand and kind of crumpled them while she gave Rube a mean look. She was going through the door as Daisy came in. Rube didn't even give her the post-its before she started complaining about the fact that I had one and she had two. Rube said that he wasn't interested in being fair, he was just interested in getting things done right, so for fuck's sake could we all just drop it. I was trying to be on my very best behavior since I'd asked Rube for a transfer, so I knew better than to say anything, even when I looked at my post it and all it said was

N. Callahan

Blue Nissan

Hwy 164 N between Auburn and Enumclaw

Mile marker 11

4:09 p.m.

I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. What the hell is a mile marker, and how am I supposed to know where it is? I had no idea how I was supposed to get there, and now I had to deal with waiting all day to do this reap in the snow. Fun.

"Nice car," Mason said to Daisy. "Where'd you get it?" I hadn't seen Daisy drive up.

"I borrowed it from a friend. I can't be expected to walk around in this kind of weather."

"Does this friend know you borrowed it?" George asked.

"That doesn't matter," Mason said. "The only thing that matters is that Daisy can give me a ride today."

She shook her head. "Absolutely not."

"I'd better not have any more frozen people today." George grumbled.

"Well it is snowing, Georgia." Daisy picked some lint off of George's hat.

"It's fucking disturbing! Last week I had a guy who was stuck to the pavement. And it takes a long time too. I've got better things to do than stand around freezing my ass off waiting for someone to turn into a human popsicle."

Rube shook his head. "You've got an awful lot to complain about for someone who has a roof over her head and warm clothes, peanut. You ever think about how unpleasant it is for these people to end their lives like that?"

"No." George swatted away Daisy's hand and looked at her watch. "And I'm going to be late for fucking work, on top of everything else."

"Georgie," Mason said with his mouth full. "You'll give me a ride to the bus stop, won't you?"

"Buses won't be running today, Mason." Rube said as he stared out the window. "It snows in this town and people go absolutely insane. I've seen it happen dozens of times. Grocery stores run out of toilet paper and milk. Frankly I'm surprised that this place is open. You got chains on your tires, peanut?" He was talking to George.

"No. It's just a little snow."

"It's not the snow I'm worried about, it's all the yahoos who drive around in it."

"Do you have chains on your tires?" She asked.

"Yep."

George glared at him. "You know what, Rube? I think I would actually pass out from shock if you ever offered to help me with anything. The good news is that when I slide off the road into a ditch, I'm already dead so there won't be any real harm done." She made Daisy get up so that she could get out of the booth and she left in a huff, taking her post-its with her.

"Two down." Mason said as he got up and slid in next to Daisy. "Who are you planning to run off next, Rube? If it's me, that's all right, just let me finish eating first."

Daisy made a face at him. "Oh my god. Why do you smell so bad? Haven't you even got the sense to bathe regularly? It's not like you have to heat up the water on a wood burning stove! You just open the tap, and hot water comes out, like magic." She waved her fingers at him.

"I didn't go home last night, all right? I happened to meet three very hot girls and we happened to have a very hot time." He grinned.

Daisy rolled her eyes. "I'm willing to bet those girls are now experiencing a very hot burning sensation when they pee."

Rube threw his newspaper down. "Every fucking morning! Can't I just have one breakfast in which no one mentions bodily fluids? Just one?"

"Of course you can." Daisy said. She opened a menu and studied it. "Mmm, I think I'd like to eat a cranberry muffin for breakfast."

Mason leaned toward her. "I'd like to eat your muffin for breakfast." He took a bite of toast.

I snorted and dribbled coffee down the front of my shirt.

Rube handed me a napkin. "Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Noel Coward."

I didn't know what he was talking about and I had to ask Daisy to explain it to me later.

Daisy ignored the whole thing. "Rube, I need a favor."

"That's funny, I was about to say the same thing to you."

"Well, I'd love to help you out but I'm afraid it simply won't be possible today. I need the morning off. I have an audition."

"What a coincidence," Rube said dryly. "I am prepared to give you just that. All I want from you is to keep an eye on Jane for a while."

"No thanks."

I said that I didn't need anyone to keep an eye on me. He told me to be quiet. Then he told Daisy he wasn't exactly asking her, he was telling her.

"Well, I refuse. You'll have to find someone else to babysit. I have an appointment to keep."

"You're still going to do it."

"No. I will not."

He gave her a look. I knew that look. It meant that he was wishing that maybe she didn't exist, that would probably be a much better situation for him. "Listen, I don't like this any more than you do. Especially after what happened last time." I guess he was talking about when I got shot.

Daisy rolled her eyes. "I'm not responsible for anyone else's health. I'm just a reluctant escort. Why don't you get to Mason to do it?"

Mason looked up and some toast fell out of his mouth.

Rube shook his head. "I don't think so."

She glared at both of us. "I really don't think this is very nice of you."

"Tough shit."

I thought I should say something. "Rube, really. She doesn't want to, I don't want to, I'll be fine."

"Sometimes you have to do things that you don't want to do. That's part of being a responsible adult." He turned to Daisy. "Come on, blondie, you know how this works. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." 

Daisy considered this. "I've got a real hard itch to scratch, Rube."

"Try me."

"I want Saturday off. This Saturday, all 24 hours. No questions asked."

"Fine."

"Hey!" I said. "I want Saturday off! How come Daisy's getting Saturday off but I'm not?"

"You see what just happened here?" Rube said to me. "Daisy's doing something to make my life easier. You do something to make my life easier and we'll talk."

Jerk.

Daisy still wasn't happy about it. Before we left, Rube grabbed me by the arm and led me away so he could lay down the law in private. He told me to stay with Daisy and he'd pick me up after my reap. He gave me a time. And of course he reminded me that if he called, I'd better answer the fucking phone or I would be sorry.

I rolled my eyes and said that I was already dead, what other shenanigans was he afraid I would get myself into? He just told me to watch myself. He also gave me twenty bucks and told me not to spend it all in one place. I was like, what in the world could I possibly find to spend a whole twenty dollars on? He said don't be a smartass.

Daisy was still grumbling when we got into her car, a black BMW with heated leather seats. I couldn't believe that someone would just let her borrow this thing, but I didn't ask any questions. Daisy's "audition" turned out to be at a house in Shoreline. She parked at the curb and flipped down a lighted mirror to touch up her makeup. I asked her if I could come in, and she said no. I asked her what I was supposed to do while she was in there and she said that she didn't care, just don't bother her. I asked if she would at least leave the car running so I wouldn't freeze, and she just rolled her eyes at me and dropped the keys in her purse. I watched her walk up the icy walk to the house. Someone answered the door and she went inside and she didn't come out again for about an hour and half. I had to pee. I was considering getting out and trying to find a gas station or something but I knew that if Daisy came back out and I wasn't here, she'd just drive off without me, and then I would be up shit creek. Plus as cold as it was in the car, it was a lot warmer than it was outside.

She came back out with her skirt on backwards.

"Did you get the part?" I asked as she started the car.

"Of course."

"You slept with someone, right?"

"Yes I did." She pulled on some driving gloves and checked her mirrors before she pulled away from the curb.

"Is that how you usually get parts?"

"I'm resourceful. I'll do what I need to do."

I thought about this. "Have you ever done porn?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Heavens, no! I did once do a somewhat racy photo shoot for a well-know gentleman's magazine, and I have no regrets because a certain young director named Millard Webb saw those photos and almost cast me in a picture."

"He almost cast you."

"He died, poor thing, before casting could begin. Very tragic for me. The part would have been perfect for me. But I bounced right back, I always do."

I thought a little bit more. "Do you make a lot of money, acting and posing for photos and stuff?"

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "I make enough. I didn't get into acting for the money, you know. I love the stage."

"And film and magazines?"

"I love it all. But it's not exactly the profession to get into if you want to be rich, unfortunately. Most people spend their whole lives at it and never make a dime."

"Not you."

"I do what I need to do." She repeated.

"Looks like you do pretty well."

"Well, I deserve the best don't I? Do you know how much my facial toner costs, for example? It costs a hundred and twenty dollars a bottle." She looked at me critically. "You know, you might give it a try sometime. It has enzymes. It might help with your dry patches."

That's the kind of day I had with Daisy. We drove around doing Daisy's errands. It was horrible. I can take the woman in small doses, but having to spend hours with her was just too much for anyone. We eventually stopped so I could pee. Then she had some 'clothes shopping' to do at some really swanky boutiques that sold $600 purses. Daisy didn't spend any money. She just tried things on and made a list of what she liked. Not a mental list. She made an actual paper list, and she made me hold stuff for her while she walked around. It was like torture.

She was making a list so if she saw something she liked on the job she could just take it. She's one of the reapers who takes things off of the people she reaps, and that includes clothes she likes. It gives me the fucking creeps. When she was done we had coffee at a really fancy coffee place where Daisy searched a newspaper for auditions and pretended I wasn't there. I was bored out of my mind.

This whole thing was pissing me off. Why the fuck did I need a babysitter, anyway? I never had any problem getting my reaps done. I got them done. I just got them done my way instead of Rube's way, and he was trying to teach me some kind of lesson by making me follow Daisy around. I showed a little bit of independence by asking for a transfer and this is how he decided to punish me. I decided that Rube was an asshole. I also decided that if Daisy said one more thing about my dry lifeless hair I was going to punch her in the boob.

We had her reap to deal with, an old woman who slipped on some ice coming out of a Safeway. It wasn't very pretty. People were really upset, and Daisy remarked that the woman's family would be seeing millions of dollars from that accident. The way she said it made it seem like she thought it was a pretty sweet deal, dollars for dead relatives. We waited in the car for the old lady's soul to move on. She sat in the back seat looking a little shocked.

It wasn't long before a news van pulled into the parking lot. I guess someone dying at the supermarket was evening news material. Daisy quickly smoothed down her hair and checked her makeup. I asked her what she was doing, and she said that she couldn't miss a chance to be on camera, that maybe the producer knew someone who knew someone. I watched her hurry across the parking lot to the van where the cameraman was setting up. She practically ran, and she came really close to slipping on some ice and eating it. That would have been one for the blooper reel.

I couldn't handle it any more so I decided to leave. I only had an hour before my reap but I did not want to spend one more second with Daisy. I really don't know how anyone could blame me. I was sure that I could just get the reap done and get back in time for dinner. I looked for the car keys, but Daisy had taken them with her. I said a word that made the old lady gasp, and then I slipped out of the car and walked away without Daisy noticing.

There were a couple of cabs waiting at a bus stop. Rube was right, the buses weren't running that day. I got one of them to take me to the address on my post-it. Something I love about cab drivers is that most of them do not ask questions. He didn't wonder why I wanted to be dropped off on the side of the road in a snowstorm. That's when I found out what a mile marker was. It was kind of hard to see them while they were covered with ice. I actually had him drop me a couple of miles from north of where my reap was supposed to be. I figured I would try to get this N. Callahan to pick me up.

I was counting on the fact that it was snowing and I could make people feel sorry enough for me not to leave me alone in the middle of nowhere. The cab driver didn't have a problem with that, of course. He took my twenty bucks and said he didn't have change, what the fuck ever. I kicked the side of the cab and told him to fuck off, and he left.

I didn't see any cars for a long time. There were woods on both sides of the road and the trees were weighed down with ice and they were making these creaking noises. The wind was blowing pretty hard and snow was coming down so thick that it looked like fog and it started getting dark. I was cold. I was beginning to think maybe leaving Daisy and her warm car behind was not such a good idea.

My phone rang. It was Rube, of course. I wasn't sure if I should answer it but since I knew that Daisy had probably figured out I was gone by then and told on me, I just sighed and answered the call.

"What do you think you're doing?" Rube shouted at me from the other end.

"Just trying to get my reap done."

He said something that sounded like "What did I fucking tell you to do?", but the reception wasn't great so I couldn't really understand him.

"Hey, I can't understand you. You're breaking up."

"I said you're about to be in a world of hurt, Jane. What did I tell you?"

"Geez. Don't have a brain aneurysm."

He said something else that I couldn't understand.

"What?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at my reap. I'm waiting to get this shit done."

"Watch your fucking mouth. You are in big trouble."

Big trouble? That might have scared me when I was eight, but I'm not a kid anymore. I told Rube that I was just going to do my stupid reap and I'd see him later and he could yell at me all he wanted then, but it would be better than spending one more minute shopping with Daisy.

He said something else that I couldn't understand, that sounded kind of like "Stay where you are", but just then I saw headlights coming. I checked the time on my phone. It was only 3:58.

"Can't hear you. I've got to go. Bye." I watched the car pull up and I stepped out into the road and started waving it down. It was a blue Nissan. The driver slowed down and rolled down his window.

"Hey there! Do you need some help?" He was a really nice looking guy. I think Rube would have liked him. He had a neat haircut and a friendly face, he was courteous and he stopped for people in distress.

"Yeah. I, uh, got in a fight with my boyfriend and he kicked me out of the car. Can you give me a ride to a gas station?"

"Sure! I can't leave anybody stranded in this. Get in. I think there's a service station about six miles from here."

I ran around to the passenger side and opened the door. Before I got in, I thought I'd better make sure he was the right guy. I didn't want to reap the wrong person. Made that mistake once, and it was not fun.

"I'm Jane," I said before I sat down. "What's your name?"

"Nathan."

I felt pretty sure he was the right guy. I shut the door. I didn't buckle up. I didn't want to be trapped if I needed to make a quick getaway. I guess that wasn't such a fantastic idea, but I wasn't really thinking about it. I just wanted to reap his soul and get out of the car as soon as possible. I tried to think of an excuse to touch him as he drove.

Nathan was polite, so he tried to talk to me about things that polite people talk about like what I did for a living, how long I'd lived in the area, and what my boyfriend and I were doing driving around in weather like this. I asked him the same thing.

"Oh, I'm just trying to get home. I figured it couldn't hurt to leave the office a couple of hours early today, especially if this weather keeps up."

I wanted to groan out loud. Of course it could fucking hurt, but he didn't know that.

My cell phone rang. It was Rube, of course. I looked at it and hit 'ignore'. Nathan looked at me sympathetically.

"Was that him?"

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"Oh! Yeah, that was him. Probably calling to apologize. He's a jerk."

I looked at the phone again and watched the time change over to 4:09.

Nathan didn't see the branches that had fallen into the middle of the road until we were almost on top of them. He turned the wheel hard to the right to avoid them, but the car ended up spinning and we slid across the road. It was only a couple of seconds, but it felt like we were spinning forever, and all I could see out of the windshield was white snow swirling around.

"Shit!" He yelled, and I just managed to reach over and take his soul before the car skidded on something, hit a metal barrier, and flipped over. There was the sound of the car crashing. It was glass breaking, me screaming and metal crunching against metal.

I guess I blacked out. Next thing I knew I was laying in some snow and my neck hurt. Snow was falling on me. I could hear the car still running somewhere, and trees creaking and that noise that snow makes as it's falling but that was it. I couldn't hear anyone.

I tried to sit up but I couldn't. All I could do was roll over on my side. I could see the car, flipped over on its top and in the middle of a partly frozen stream. I wondered how we ended up in the woods. I found out later that we had flipped over and crashed down an embankment into some trees. Nathan had been buckled in, so his body stayed in the car but I was thrown out of the car through an open door.

Nathan's soul was crouched a few feet away, looking at me. He wasn't so friendly looking any more. He looked scared.

"What should I do?" He asked. I wondered if he knew he was dead yet. "What should I do?"

I wanted to say how the fuck was I supposed to know what you should do? But when I opened my mouth the only thing that came out was blood. It was really gross to say the least. I got dizzy and started to pass out again, and I heard my cell phone ringing. It sounded really far away. Then everything went black, as they say on TV. Only it wasn't on TV, it was in real life and it sucked.


	15. Chapter 15

I am so fucking tired. Today I had to work and all I did was move displays of DVDs. That meant that I had to take everything off the racks, move the stupid racks where Chet wanted them, move them again when he decided that it wasn't exactly right, then put the movies back in alphabetical order. When I was on my break I was outside smoking and I started talking to another girl who works there, Holly. She is cool. She has these star tattoos on each arm, and she and her boyfriend are really into camp horror films, especially Troma. She's been in a couple of independent zombie movies. She says she usually plays zombies and dead bodies. She said she'd let me know the next time she hears that someone is looking for extras. I think it would be awesome to play a zombie or a gory murder victim! I have plenty of experience in that department. I am (un)dead, after all.

Chet yelled at me for forgetting to clock out for my break. He's pretty universally hated at Trader's. He's kind of a douche. Everyone's grossed out by the way he stares at the girls.

When I got back to the apartment all I wanted to do was lay down, but Rube left a post-it on my bed. I have a reap to make in a couple of hours, so it doesn't really make any sense to try to go to sleep now. I'd just have to get up in a few minutes anyway. I guess this is as good a time as any to continue from where I left off last time I wrote in this thing. This is supposed to be the story of my life, though, so maybe I should just write over and over that I don't get to do anything except work and write in this thing. Ha!

I don't know how long I was laying there in the snow. I guess it was a couple of hours. Somehow my coat and one of my shoes had come off between the car and the ground, so I was laying there in a t-shirt and my jeans. I would wake up and then I would black out again. The first couple of times I opened my eyes I could see Nathan sitting there looking scared. I heard my phone ring a couple more times but I didn't know where it was, not that I could do anything about it if I did since I was having a lot of trouble moving. I could if I really tried, but then I would start bleeding and get dizzy and pass out again. I tried to push myself up and I could only get up on my elbow before I passed out. I ended up on my face.

Being passed out in the snow for a couple of hours isn't fun, but it's even less fun being passed out in the snow on your face. It really, really sucked to wake up with frostbite on my fucking face. I hate snow. I hate it. I thought it was magical but it's not magical, it's evil. I wish I could just go back to the desert and forget I ever saw it. Then next time I woke up I saw Nathan again, crouching and looking upset. I was finally able to talk without blood gushing out but only if I lay there really still and didn't try to move around. I asked him what he was still doing there. My voice sounded weird. Gurgly.

"I went back to the car. I wanted to try to find something to help, you know, with your neck. I have a first aid kit in the trunk. Then I saw my body." He looked totally sad, like this was the worst thing that ever happened to him. Well, I guess it was the worst thing that ever happened to him.

"Yeah, you're dead now."

"I figured that out. What am I doing here? I thought that when I died I would go to, you know..." His voice trailed off. He looked embarrassed.

"Where?"

"Heaven."

I couldn't help but laugh a little, which made a blood bubble come out of my mouth. He asked me if I knew I had a piece of metal sticking out of my neck.

"Really?" So that was why I couldn't move without blood gushing everywhere. I think that my heart would have just kept pumping to bleed out of my neck. I bet that it would have kept pumping even if I somehow ran out of blood. I bet it would have pumped air. I bet it would keep pumping even if it wasn't in my body – if it somehow got ripped out and held in front of me like that guy who gets sacrificed in the lava pit in Temple of Doom. Except, obviously, there's no lava pit.

He nodded. "I think its part of my car. Sorry. You're pretty mangled. I would do something, but I can't touch anything. My hand just goes right through stuff."

"It's okay."

After a little while he asked, "What should I do?"

I was tired. "If you see any lights, you should go to them."

"You're kidding. Go into the light, like the psychics say?" He was quiet for a minute. "I can't just leave you here. You're dying."

I didn't have anything to say to that. If he wasn't going to go into the pretty lights when he saw them that was his problem.

I wish I could say that I managed to get on my feet and climb up the embankment and get to the road, and that I was able to hitch a ride back into the city and Der Waffle Haus where I got a cup of coffee, but that didn't happen. I also wish I could say that someone passing by saw the carnage and decided to hike down the hill to pick me up and carry me off to someplace warm, but that didn't happen either. In reality I tried moving around a few times but every time I did I would bleed and get dizzy and black out again. I ended up laying there in the cold with my hair freezing to the ground and I wondered if this was finally it. If I couldn't get up, I wouldn't be able to go get my post-its and make my reaps, and that would be the end of me. I guess I thought that eventually someone would come along and find the accident and find me, and then I would have to explain what I was doing with part of a car stuck in my neck and about forty gallons of blood spilled around me. I was sure with all the blood it was just a matter of time before some wild animals found me. Like some wild dogs. Or bears. I'd heard there were bears around there. I have never seen a bear in real life, but one of my worst nightmares as a kid was about being attacked by a bear. I had a lot of time to think about that and all of the horrible things that could happen to me while I was laying there. At least it stopped snowing. The stars came out and it was kind of peaceful.

I figured out I was freezing when everything stopped hurting. I must have been delusional because decided it was probably a good thing. I thought that maybe I would freeze solid and in the spring I would thaw out and I'd be all in one piece by then so I could get up and get on my un-life. Maybe Rube would have my transfer all worked out by then and I could say goodbye to snow forever. I imagined going back to my friends in Las Vegas and doing the things I used to do. Lenore and I would scam tourists at off-strip clubs and casinos, she would buy beer and I would buy pills, and then we'd just chill out until Santos decided he was ready to go out and party. Then I would go out with him and in the morning we'd sleep for a couple of hours and do the whole thing over again. I have no idea how I managed to get my reaps done in those days. It seemed like there wouldn't have been enough time. Pretty soon I fell asleep, and I started dreaming about my friends. I had a crazy dream that Santos was crashing through the woods looking for me with a big flashlight, and I was calling for him to help me. He found me and as he got closer the flashlight changed into an axe. He stopped over me with this crazy look in his eyes and swung it at me.

I woke up because someone was shining a flashlight in my face. I was still half-asleep and couldn't tell if I was dreaming. "Ben?"

That's what I sometimes called him. Short for Benito. His name is Benito Santos, which literally means holy blessing but is the furthest thing from the truth that I could possibly think of.

"Nope. Sorry to disappoint you."

It was Rube, of course. When is it not Rube? After I left Daisy it was only a matter of time before he got to where my reap was supposed to be. He figured out that something was wrong when I wasn't around to scream at. First he thought I'd run off, trying to avoid him. Once it stopped snowing at around midnight he came back for a second look and was flagged down by Nathan. Rube said that Nathan was practically hysterical and trying to wave over every passing car even though no one could see him because he was convinced I was going to die. Of course I wasn't going to die but it's hard to explain that to someone when you're lying there looking all gory and shit.

Rube said that Nathan was a nice kid, just like I thought he'd say. They talked for a few minutes while Rube yanked the piece of metal out of my neck. Once it was out I was able to move around without losing a ton of blood but I was still frozen so Rube had to half carry and half drag me up the hill. He left me in the cab of the truck while they waited for Nathan's lights to show up. I don't know what they talked about. It was probably the regular talk that Rube usually gives total strangers: Understanding, kindness, all the things he won't ever give to me. Whatever. I am kind of sorry that I didn't get to say goodbye to Nathan.

I fell asleep again in the truck, so I don't know how much time passed but the next time I woke up Rube was shaking me and we were parked on the street in a quiet neighborhood. He said that he couldn't take me to his place, since if any of his neighbors saw me like this they would start asking questions. He said we were at a friend's house and that his friend Penny would fix me right up. I wasn't sure that I wanted anyone fixing me up but I wasn't really in any position to argue.

His friend Penny turned out to be a nurse. She and Rube used to work together before she got a transfer to natural causes, and now she works in one of those hospitals that people only go to die, which I guess is good business for her since she's there to reap them. The funny thing about Penny is that she smokes. I just think it's really weird to see a nurse smoking. She met us at the door with a cigarette in her mouth and hurried us inside before anyone saw us. Her house is really nice, really average and normal looking with normal furniture. She lives by herself but she's managed to not turn her place into a creepy shrine to all the stuff she's collected over the decades like Rube's place.

"Hey Chief," Penny said. In addition to being a smoking nurse she also has a really squeaky voice. "You had me kind of scared on the phone. This doesn't look so bad."

"You should have seen what I pulled out of her. Where do you want her?"

"Put her on the sofa. Is she still bleeding?"

I tried to say that I was right here and I could talk, but nothing really came out. Penny saw that I was trying to say something and she held her finger up to her mouth.

"You just take it easy and let the grownups do the talking, okay sweetie?" She sat next to me and tilted my head back so she could look at my neck and she blew smoke in my face. "That's a honey of a gash. That's what we in the business call a bleeder. You've gone right through the carotid artery here. A normal human would have bled to death in just a few minutes. At least it's not bleeding anymore."

I tried to say that I was a normal human, but again I couldn't get the words out. Rube watched over Penny's shoulder while she cleaned up my neck. I didn't really pay attention to what she was doing. Penny said that I was in shock and that I also had hypothermia and that I also had frostbite on my face and hands. She said that she'd once had a really bad case of frostbite and that it would hurt pretty bad. Then she said she'd get me a hot toddy to warm me up, but Rube said no.

Penny said that I was going to thaw out, and it could happen one of two ways: The comfortable way or the less than comfortable way, and which did Rube want to do? He looked at me for a few seconds, then sighed and said that he just wanted to do whatever was fastest.

I'm not really sure whether I got the comfortable treatment or not. Penny told me that I needed to get changed out of my wet clothes. I looked at her, then I looked at Rube. I wasn't about to get naked with him there. Rube looked at me with his arms crossed.

"What are you still doing in here?" Penny asked him. "Go make yourself useful in the kitchen. I believe you promised me a freezer full of your mama's dumplings. You didn't lose the recipe, did you?"

He left, but not without glaring at me first. It was kind of funny to see Rube being bossed around for a change. Penny pulled out an old pair of scrubs for me to wear and helped me get changed.

She had me lie down on the sofa and put a hot water bottle on my chest, then tucked a big quilt around me. Then she went into the kitchen with Rube. I heard them talking and laughing in there and banging around pots and pans and I fell asleep.

I woke up and my face, arms, hands and right foot were in PAIN. Big awful horrible fucking pain. Rube was sitting across from me in an armchair smoking a pipe and reading a book. When I told him it hurt he said that I had frostbite over every exposed part of my body, and that's how frostbite works, when you thaw out it hurts like a motherfucker. He said there was a way that you're supposed to thaw people out when they have frostbite and it probably would have hurt less but he wasn't really interested in doing what hurt less. I asked for a cigarette and he said not until I was able to get up and walk around, and then he said not to try until he told me to.

I was crying at this point because just like Penny said, it hurt really badly. Oh my god. I never want to have frostbite again. Rube got up and disappeared down the hall. He came back a couple of minutes later with Penny, who looked sleepy and was wearing a nightgown. She still had a cigarette in her mouth, only this one wasn't lit. She gave me a handful of pills to take and said they were hydrocodone, among other things. Rube asked her where she got hydrocodone and she said that the pharmacist at the hospital was one of them, and he gave her a little of everything to keep on hand just in case. She said she wouldn't be the first nurse to make a patient's death a little less painful. I was so grateful to her at that moment. I could imagine what her patients must think, dying and in horrible pain and here comes Penny with some narcotics to make them sleep. She must look like an angel. I chewed those fuckers up and swallowed them without water. She and Rube went back into the kitchen where Penny refilled my hot water bottle and I could hear them trying to whisper so I wouldn't hear what they were talking about.

It was only a few minutes before I felt the pills taking effect. It was beautiful. I am in love with that shit. It makes me want to hug people, even strangers. Even Rube. I swear I could put up with any kind of reap in any conditions if I could have it to help me deal. I fell asleep before they came back into the room.

The next time I woke up daylight was coming through the windows. Rube was still sitting in the armchair, but he was asleep and snoring. It was weird to see Rube asleep. I don't think I'd ever seen that before. He looked like he could be a totally normal person while he was asleep. If anyone who didn't know him saw him sleeping, they would probably think he was just another guy, maybe someone who worked at a bank or managed a grocery store. No one would guess he was an uptight grim reaper with anger issues.

I felt mostly normal. I still had pins and needles in my left foot and arms, but otherwise I was okay. I got up and stumbled around, trying to find the bathroom. I looked at myself in mirror and noticed that I had blisters on my face. Rube must have woken up when I flushed the toilet. He was in the kitchen making coffee when I came in and sat down at the table.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm okay. Where's Penny?" I was hoping she'd show up and keep Rube from whaling on me.

"She's at work. She told me to make myself at home."

I thought that was funny. I could imagine him really making himself at home, organizing Penny's shoes by style and bitching about what she watches on TV. He asked me if I was hungry, and I said no because I could not picture myself forcing down a single thing. I felt kind of sick from the hydrocodone. I asked if I could have a cup of coffee and he brought me one. He'd already put sugar in it. He sat down across from me and watched me as I drank it. My hands shook. He looked disgusted.

"You know, kid," He said after a while. "I'm getting awfully sick and tired of being in this situation with you."

I didn't have anything to say. Rube just watched me for a little while longer. I asked him why he wasn't at Der Waffle Haus and he said that he'd left Roxy in charge for the day, that he told her that he had some personal business to take care of. I put my head down on the table and waited for him to start the yelling, but he didn't. He just told me to rest for a while and let him know when I felt well enough to go home. I took another nap on the sofa - I guess I must have slept a long time because when I woke up it was getting dark outside and Penny and Rube were together in the kitchen, talking. I heard part of what they were talking about.

"You haven't had this much trouble on your hands since Mickey." Penny sounded kind of amused.

"Mickey was a good kid. He was just a little misguided. Jane has got some serious problems. How are you supposed to deal with someone as fucked in the head as she is?"

"Did you find out how she died?"

"Of course I did. That can't be an excuse for everything. We all had horrible things happen to us, right? That's prerequisite for our line of work." I heard him opening and closing cabinets. "Don't you have any paprika?"

I heard her strike a match. I guess she was smoking. My mouth started watering. I really wanted a cigarette.

"Why would I have paprika? I eat takeout most of the time."

"Well how do you expect me to make chicken paprikash without paprika? It's there in the name of the dish. Without paprika it's not chicken paprikash! It's just chicken."

"I'm okay with just chicken."

"You're going to have to be. Where do you keep your flour sifter?"

"Cabinet over the sink." After a few seconds, she said, "So what are you planning to do about her?"

"Who?"

"Pauline Hargrave in there. How are you planning to keep her from getting her head cut off of beaten to a pulp or drowned in the sewer or whatever else she gets herself into?"

I had to figure out who Pauline Hargrave was, because that's obviously not my name. She was the main character in a series of movies that were made like a hundred years ago called The Perils of Pauline where she was always getting into impossible situations like hanging from cliffs and getting tied up on the railroad tracks and stuff. Very funny, Penny. Rube apparently thought it was funny too. He snorted. The he groaned.

"I don't get it, Pen. I don't get it. Why me? Why am I the one who gets all the kids?"

"Of all the people."

"What did I do to deserve this? You don't get kids, do you?"

"Not since inoculations became all the rage."

"I can't help wondering if this is some kind of cosmic joke. Maybe it's someone's idea of irony."

"Because of Rosie."

"Why else?"

"That's kind of self-centered of you, Chief. Not everyone is as focused on your hang-ups as you are."

"Talk about hang-ups, you're the one who won't have an ice maker in your refrigerator."

"Hey!" She said. "You drown in ice and see how eager you are to have it in your house!"

"All I'm saying is that it can't be a coincidence."

"Why not? After all these years, I've looked and looked for some kind of reason to this mess we live. I've never been able to figure it out. Why are we here? Who decided that this is a good idea? Why am I watching reapers who are decades younger than me make their quota and move on while I'm left here waiting to see what happens? You must wonder the same thing. If you know something I don't, please tell me, because I feel like I am twisting in the wind here."

I must have made some kind of noise because Rube shushed her and poked his head through the door. "You awake? Hungry yet?"

Penny told me that I could take a shower if I wanted to, so I did. I changed back into the scrubs she lent me and I took the opportunity to look through the medicine cabinet to see if I could find any of that hydrocodone that she said she had stashed away. It wasn't my proudest moment, sure, but all I knew was that I wanted to feel great again.

I couldn't find anything so I came back out and sat at the table. Penny gave me a cigarette and we watched Rube cook. Penny talked about her day at work and she had to repeat herself a few times so Rube could hear her over the cooking noises he was making. We ate the chicken and rice that he made that was actually really good. I guess I acted surprised that he was such a good cook because he looked kind of offended. After we ate I helped clean up the dishes and Rube brought out a huge chocolate cake that he'd baked while I was sleeping. Penny made a pot of coffee and brought out a deck of cards and a little board with holes in it and she and Rube taught me how to play three hand cribbage. I lost, but it was kind of fun anyway.

It was weird. I wondered if that was what it was like to sit down for a typical family dinner. I mean, I guess to outsiders we would have looked like a typical family, and we probably would have pretended to be one in case anyone asked. We talked and somehow no one got mad at each other and no one ended up yelling or storming out or throwing anything. We just had a nice time. Penny started yawning and Rube said that it was time to leave. She asked him to stay for one more game, and he said that we really couldn't, we had somewhere to be. I had almost forgotten that he was probably planning to whip me for disobeying him.

"Come on, Rube. We can play one more game." I tried not to sound nervous.

He gave me a look. "We have to go. Thank Penny for her hospitality and grab your clothes."

Penny said that I could keep the scrubs. Rube said he had to make a pit stop before we left. That meant that he had to go to the bathroom. While he was in there Penny asked if she could talk to me for a second. She sat down next to me and looked at me.

"Your face looks better. You feel better, right?"

"Yeah."

"Now sweetie, listen to me. I know that Rube isn't the easiest guy to get along with." She looked like she expected me to say something.

"Okay."

"I know that he can be kind of a hardass."

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Is the one syllable answer thing something you do on a regular basis? Because I can see how that would be annoying. Forget it. I just wanted to say that I know Rube. I've known him for a long time and I know that he really is very good at what he does. If he wants you to do certain things or not do certain things, there's a good reason. He's just trying to give you the benefit of his experience. Do you know what I mean?"

I nodded. "I guess."

"Just don't give him too hard of a time, okay? It's difficult for him."

"What's difficult for him?"

"Seeing you make all of the same mistakes that he did."

First of all I wouldn't say that all of the things I do are mistakes except for the fact that Rube doesn't want me to do them and then he gets mad and I get in trouble. Second, I cannot believe that Rube ever did anything wrong. It has sometimes been hard to get the hang of being a reaper but I can't imagine that Rube ever needed as much help as I did. He was already a grown man by the time that he died.

Rube came out of the bathroom and said it was time to hit the road. I said goodbye to Penny and she gave me a hug and told me not to get in any more gruesome accidents, and then we got in the truck and left.


	16. Chapter 16

I was kind of surprised to find out that Rube is still reading this thing. He had some issues with what I wrote the other day. He said that I remembered a lot of things wrong about the night that I ended up facedown in the snow. He said that for one thing, I was in shock and wasn't speaking, at least not anything he could understand, so I never said Santos' name. He also said that he certainly didn't glare at me while I was laying there bleeding, he's not a monster after all. He was standing here ranting at me and holding the notebook I use.

He pointed at one part. "Why did you write this? I did not say you were fucked in the head."

"You did!"

"No I did not. You were so hopped up on those pills, I'm surprised that you remember anything."

I can not believe that he said "hopped up" but he really did. I said that I just wrote what I heard him say. He said that if I wanted to write fairy tales I could, but that my sick fantasies aren't going to make him feel sorry for me. That's exactly what he said.

I do not make this shit up. I wish I was making it up. If I did I would write something awesome like I don't have to work at my shitty job for minimum wage and live with Rube. Also, I guess I wouldn't be a reaper. Maybe I never would have died. I definitely would have ended that last part differently. I don't know, maybe I would have stayed at Penny's for a while. She's nice. She wouldn't have done what Rube did.

He was so mad at me that night.

He called Roxy on his cell phone while he drove to ask her how things were going. I could tell from his side of the conversation that she wasn't very happy about being left in charge. He told her he'd see her at Der Waffle Haus in the morning. He didn't say anything about me.

We got to Rube's and he still didn't say anything to me until we got inside and he closed and locked the door behind us. It was cold and dark in the apartment. While we were gone someone had slipped a manila envelope under the door. Rube scooped it up when he walked in and didn't let me see it. I guess it was his death assignments. Santos would get envelopes just like it shoved through the mail slot.

Rube turned on some lights and got the furnace going. Then he pointed at the chair in front of his desk and told me to sit down. I asked why. He said he wanted to talk to me. I said I could talk standing up, and he said that pretty soon I would have to do a lot of things standing up and I should sit while I still could. Ha, ha.

So I sat and he sat on the edge of his desk and looked down at me. I was all ready for him to start yelling and tell me what an idiot I was, but he didn't.

"You have a problem."

That's all he said, and then he was quiet for a long time. I have a problem. I had a problem, that's for sure, and my problem was that Rube was pissed off at me. I said that and he just shook his head.

"You have a problem following directions."

If he was waiting for me to say yes sir I do, you're a hundred percent right, he was going to be waiting for a long time.

"I don't understand it. I give you simple directions, and the moment you're out of my sight you do exactly the opposite of what I've told you to do. Can you tell me why?"

He wanted an answer, so I shrugged and said, "I don't know. Sometimes I have a better idea of what I want to do."

"A better idea. Getting your head nearly cut off was a better idea?"

"You can't be mad at me for that! That was an accident!"

"That wasn't an accident. I told you specifically to stay with Daisy, and you didn't. I told you specifically when I called you to stay where you were, and you didn't! Are you listening to me?"

I looked up and Rube was glaring at me. "Yes."

"Are you? Because I feel like we have this same conversation over and over again. I thought I was being nice, giving us both a break today and maybe giving you a little freedom. I guess that was a bad idea."

"You know what, maybe it was!" I was starting to get mad. I guess Rube could tell.

He was like, "Oh, no. You don't get to be upset with me. I saved your ass out there! Again! Where would you be if I wasn't here to help you out?"

"I'd be happy." It was kind of dumb but I didn't care.

"You think so. You think once you get out of here everything is going to be just fine. I've got some bad news for you. You've already been transferred once in your first six months. Odds are not good for you getting a ticket out of here just because you don't like working for me."

I tried to say that it wasn't the reason I wanted a transfer, but he cut me off.

"I can't believe that you haven't yet figured out that you were sent here for the same reason you died. You don't think about the consequences of your actions and you can't control yourself. You're a fuck up."

What could I say to that? Maybe I am a fuck up. I guess I am. If whoever it is that decides who lives and dies decided that I was a fuck up and told Rube that, I guess it's true. I still hated him for saying it.

"The powers that be decided that you were making a nuisance of yourself at home. You've got another chance here, and believe me if you don't start getting your act together your next transfer won't be home. It will be someplace that you won't come back from. Do you understand me?"

I stared at him. My face was burning. Not from the frostbite. From anger. "You'd love that. You'd love it if I disappeared!"

"Give me a break! You're not the victim you think you are. Try taking a little responsibility for yourself."

I wasn't about to do that. "What's it to you anyway, some extra paperwork? Why don't I save you some trouble and just go?" I stood up.

"Now you're being ridiculous."

"Fuck you!"

Rube told me to watch my fucking mouth, and I said why? I can't say fuck? I said that he says fuck all the time.

"It's not the words, it's the intent behind the words. And I can say what I want because this is my house and I'm older and meaner than you. Show a little respect."

I said whatever and rolled my eyes. 

He stood up and pushed me toward the hallway. "I can't talk to you when you're like this, you're pissing me off. Go to bed."

"I'm not tired! I slept all day!"

"Then you'll have a lot of time to think about what I've said to you tonight, won't you?"

I stomped off to my room and I slammed the door and kicked the nearest boxes five or six times. I guess I made a lot of noise, because I heard Rube come down the hall and I panicked. I wanted to run but there was no where to go. He opened the door and looked at me like he wanted to murder me.

"Jane, you're asking for it." He didn't say what "it" was, but I had a pretty good idea anyway. It didn't matter. I was pissed. Plus I don't really do well when I'm cornered.

I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, which was the old alarm clock that sits on top of the dresser. I've never used the thing, mainly because Rube always wakes me up and also because it has hands (instead of being digital) and I can't figure out how to set it to the right time. Anyway, I threw that thing at him as hard as I could. I don't know what I was thinking would happen – did I want to hurt Rube? I'm not sure. He ducked just in time. I don't know what would have happened if it had hit him.

The clock hit the wall and then it hit the floor. Rube took two steps across the room and grabbed me by the arm. I thought he was going to punch me but he dragged me over to the bed. He sat down and pulled me over so I fell forward over his lap. I tried to stand up, but he had my arm twisted behind my back and all I could do was kick my legs. I was freaking out. He started slapping my ass through my scrubs, HARD. It really stung. I could tell that I had really pissed him off. I was too surprised to count, but I think he spanked me around thirty times. Then he yanked me up to my feet and held my arms in front of me and shouted at me.

"Little girl, you need to get control of yourself right fucking quick."

I didn't say anything smart. I didn't want to give him any excuse to start spanking me again.

"Count to ten, take a deep breath, do whatever it takes to make yourself tolerable right now. I'm not fucking around with you. I've got a lot of work to catch up on, thanks to having to take care of you all day, and I'm going to go do it. If you take a single step out of this room before I tell you to, you'll get the worst whipping of your life. Do you understand me?"

I nodded. He left the room and slammed the door. I sat on the bed for a while, wondering what was going to happen. I felt like I didn't have control over the things that were happening to me or the things I was doing, and I was just making everything even worse. It sucked. After a while I got up and tried to open the window so I could smoke without Rube going fucking nuts because I was making his house smell like smoke. I couldn't get the stupid thing open, though. It looked like it hadn't been opened in years. I pulled on it for a while but I guess it was painted shut.

So I was still frustrated. And bored. And my ass hurt. And I was mad at myself, but also mad at Rube. I'm not sure why I was mad at Rube - the same stuff that I'm always mad at him about, I guess. Like making me do things I don't want to do, and then freaking out when I make mistakes or decide to do something else.

I went through the closet and the dresser, looking for something to jimmy the window with. I couldn't find anything so I started opening boxes. I went through a couple of them that only had really old clothes and little porcelain things wrapped in really old newspapers. There was nothing very interesting in those. I think Rube keeps the good stuff hidden. Like the jewels and stock certificates, stuff like that.

It felt like hours went by. I couldn't tell because of course the clock was broken. I heard Rube walking around in the apartment. I tried to sleep but I really wasn't sleepy. I had to pee. I thought about just walking across the hall and using the bathroom, but I was too scared by Rube's threat. Usually he gives really generic threats like I'll be sorry or I'm in trouble or something like that and I can handle that kind of shit, but this was pretty specific, "The worst whipping of your life". I knew I'd pushed him really far already. I did not want to find out what that would be like. I finally couldn't hold it any more. I opened the door really quietly and stuck my head out. I could see the lights on in the living room and I could hear Rube listening to some music. I yelled that I needed to go to the bathroom. After a few seconds Rube stuck his head through the hallway door and told me to go ahead and go, and to come out to the living room when I was done. He didn't look angry any more. So I did my business and when I was done I went out to see what he wanted.

When I walked into the living room, Rube was sitting at his desk working in his ledger. He barely looked at me. He asked me if I was ready to be civil yet. I said sure, and he said good because he still needed to talk to me about disobeying him earlier when I was supposed to be with Daisy. I groaned and said that he'd already told me what he thought, and he said yes but I didn't listen to what he had to say so he's going to have to repeat himself, and let's not forget that I've got a whipping coming, just like he promised to do any time I disobeyed. He said that he always kept his word even if I didn't. I didn't think that was fair because he already spanked me that night, but whatever.

He made me take my pants down and bend over the arm of the armchair. I argued, of course, because there's no way I'm ever going to just lay down and let him whip me. Come on. I ended up just doing what he told me to do because I'm not stupid. I knew I'd really fucked up by throwing the clock at him. I thought maybe if I just did what he said, took the whipping he wanted to give me, that everyone would calm down and we could just pretend that it never happened.

Rube had to start the whole goddamned lecture all over again while my pants were around my ankles. I just wanted him to get it over with.

"Here's what's going to happen. Since you can only be trusted when you're in my sight, that's exactly where you're going to be from now on. If you thought you were sick of my company before, you're going to be a hell of a lot sicker of it before I'm through with you." He paced around while he talked. I could hear him pulling off his belt. I started to get that scared, panicked feeling of being cornered again. He came over and put his hand on my back.

"You and I are going to have a lot more of these talks if you don't start exercising a little self control. I'm through being nice."

I laughed. Nice? Rube was never fucking nice to me.

"Do you understand why you're being whipped, Jane?"

I said yes. Then he asked me why. I said please let's just get it over with. Rube was quiet for a few seconds, then he pushed down on my back and raised the belt and cracked it across my thighs four times in a row. I tried to jump up, but he held me down. All I could do was clench my teeth and try not to scream.

"You're a slow learner, kid. When I ask you a question I expect an answer. Why are you being whipped?"

I was like, okay fine, and said it was because I didn't do what you told me to do. Rube waited. Then he said that there was more, right? And I said, there is? And Rube sighed and raised his arm.

I did not want to get whipped on my thighs again. "Wait, wait! Give me a hint!"

"What was I just talking about? Your lack of self control?"

"Right! I have no self control."

"I think you demonstrated that earlier when you tried to throw something at me."

I said that he already spanked me for that.

"What, those swats I gave you in there? That was nothing. That was just to get your attention. You're about to feel what I think about that kind of behavior."

Then he started whipping me. He whipped that belt across my ass ten times before he stopped. I thought it was over, but he started lecturing me again.

"Now we're going to talk about your wandering away from Daisy when I specifically told you to stay with her. You'd think that after what happened to you, you'd be, I don't know… Sorry. But you don't really seem to be."

I had never thought to say I was sorry. Was I sorry? I don't know. Rube said that he was going to make sure I was, and he started whipping me again. I lost count after twenty. I could not hold still. It hurt too fucking bad! I couldn't kick because my feet were tangled up in my pants, but I shifted from leg to leg and tried to cover my ass. Rube stopped and told me to move my hand. I tried to but I couldn't. It was like my hand had a mind of its own. Rube grabbed my wrist and held it against my back before he started whipping again. He was really trying to make some kind of point with this one, and I did not like it at all.

He stopped and held me down while he lectured me some more. It was more about how I need more self-control and as long as he was my boss, he was going to make sure that I did, even if that meant that he'd have to whip me every day. I think that's what he said. All I could think about was the throbbing pain in my ass. Then Rube surprised me by grabbing my panties and yanking them up into my ass so that more skin was exposed. In other words, he gave me a fucking wedgie. As if my humiliation wasn't bad enough already. I yelled at him to knock it off, and he yelled back that I obviously wasn't absorbing the message he was trying to send me.

He kept whipping me for another minute at least. I thought I was going to die. This was what he'd been talking about when he threatened to give me the worst whipping of my life. It had to be. It was the very worst that he'd given me yet, cracking his belt down on my mostly bare ass over and over, too many times for me to count. I was sure I would have bruises. I think Rube was trying to make me cry. But he didn't know that I just don't cry when I get hurt. I cry when I'm frustrated or mad, but not when I just get hurt, because I'm not a pussy.

Finally it was over. Rube let me up and put his belt back on, and I stood up and pulled my pants up. My ass was ON FIRE. I rubbed it and could not believe how hot and swollen it felt. I'm sure that if I wasn't undead it would have been ten times worse. It seriously took me a minute to get myself together. I was shaking.

Then Rube told me it was time for my punishment, and I was like what the hell! For real? I'd just gotten the worst ass beating I've ever gotten and a close second to the worst total beat down I've ever gotten and he thought I still hadn't been punished. Whatever.

So he got out the good old Merriam-Webster and the notebook and made me sit down at the table, and he watched while I wrote out the definition of self-control (restraint exercised over one's own impulses, emotions, or desires). He said I only had to write it once, which made me really suspicious. And then he tore out the paper I'd written on, and took me by the arm and led me over to the wall. He put the paper up at my eye level and told me I had to stand with my hands behind my back and nose against the paper so it wouldn't slide down the wall. He told me that I had to stand there for one hour, and that if the paper slipped I would have to start the hour over again.

I think that was the most boring thing I've ever done, even writing sentences or my boring-ass reaps when I have to wait for the marks for forever and its some horribly slow death, like I don't know, being crucified or something. I was so angry at Rube, but at the same time I didn't want to make him mad at me again, so I stood perfectly still and did my best not to let it slip. Of course I couldn't really read the words that up close to them, but I think Rube was hoping that I would learn through osmosis or something. Maybe it worked. I still know it by heart.

After a couple of minutes even the sting in my ass faded into a kind of unpleasant ache, but it wasn't really painful anymore and I didn't have that to distract me from how fucking bored and mad I was. I thought back to earlier that night when I heard Rube and Penny talking in the kitchen. I had some questions.

"Hey," I said. My voice was muffled and I had to be careful not to move my head and let the paper fall. "Who's Mickey?"

Rube was trying to find some music show he liked on the radio. I heard him turn it off and swivel his chair around.

"Mickey?"

"Yeah. I heard you talking to Penny about him."

Rube was quiet for a second. I think he was trying to keep his head from exploding. "It's rude to eavesdrop on other people' conversations, kid. Mickey was someone I worked with a long time ago."

"Penny said that he was as bad as me. Must have been pretty bad." I was being sarcastic, of course. When Rube didn't answer, I asked him what happened to Mickey.

"I don't know."

"Did he reap his quota?"

"I told you, I don't know." Rube sounded tired. "One day there was a train ticket to Chicago and a hundred dollars with his name on it. This was 1952 or 1953. A hundred dollars was enough to get started someplace new back then. We lost touch."

I didn't get any money when I transferred. Actually, I probably did and Santos just kept it. He was always doing stuff like that.

"How'd he die?" I know this is a really rude thing to ask. But I was really curious. And bored. I know how a lot of reapers died. Sometimes it's legendary and word gets around, like how George died with the Russian space station toilet falling on her. That shit is classic! As far as Seattle goes, the only other reaper whose death I know about is Mason – he drilled a hole in his head with a power drill. I know about my Vegas friends. I know that Brook was cooking some meth in his kitchen, did it wrong and inhaled toxic fumes. Lenore was run down trying to cross the strip one night, and Luis died from the heat trying to cross into Arizona at Nogales. I only know about Santos from rumors – someone told me that he'd been shot by a hit man for the Mob (the one with a capital M), who wanted to scare the owner of a casino that Santos worked in. I believed it, even though he never said anything about it. In my experience reapers only talk about their deaths if they were accidents. Otherwise you just don't ask.

"Mickey was younger than you. Fifteen, I think. Not the brightest kid. One day he decided to play with some dynamite he found at a construction site. Blew himself up."

"Gross." I thought for a minute. "Penny said he got into trouble."

"He was a pain in my ass. But he was a cakewalk compared to dealing with you."

"Did you ever whip him?"

"Once or twice. I didn't have to do it very often."

"You think you have to whip me?"

"You don't really leave me much choice."

I don't think that's true, but whatever. I asked him who Rosie was. He didn't answer, just told me to stop with the questions for a while. He said I was supposed to be exercising self-control, so I could start by being quiet for the rest of the hour. While I was "exercising self-control" and trying to keep the paper against the wall with my nose I heard him moving around and working on stuff, but I wasn't sure what he was doing. I heard him dragging something around.

After a while Rube said that the hour was over. He said that I could watch TV if I wanted to, but by that time I was too tired and I just wanted to go to bed. His punishments really wear me out. I dragged myself down the hall to the bedroom and for a minute I couldn't figure out what was different. Then I realized that the door was gone.

I came back into the living room and asked Rube what happened to the door. I noticed that the hall door was also gone.

"I told you that we're going to be intimately acquainted for a while. I apparently have got to keep an eye on you every minute to keep you from doing something stupid. You'll get the door back when you show me that you can do what you're told."

"You cannot be serious."

"As a heart attack."

I thought about arguing, but I decided that it would be a lot easier just to deal with it. It didn't work out as well for Rube as he thought it would, though. Later that night he decided to go to bed and he woke me up by yelling at me to turn off my light, which was shining down the hall and into the living room and I guess keeping him awake. I yelled back that I always slept with the light on. He came down the hall and stood in the doorway.

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Really? Why didn't I know that?"

I rolled over and told him that he didn't know as much about me as he thinks he does, and could he go away since he was keeping me awake. He did, grumbling about what a smartass I am.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing. I am going through some pretty heavy personal stuff that may keep me from updating for a while. Feedback rocks, though. Keep the comments coming._

I officially have no life and no friends, and since I have no one to talk to I guess I will just write about everything that has happened lately in this stupid book. This sucks.

Everything has been fine for the last couple of days, as fine as it ever is. Chet told me he needed some extra hours from me because someone who usually closes quit. So I've been working late the last couple of days, usually by myself with Chet. Then this morning he called me and told me he needs me to close tonight, but I don't usually work Fridays and I told him that, and he said tough shit and that if I didn't come in my ass was fired. So I came in.

We were by ourselves closing up when Chet made his move. He told me that my nametag was crooked and he reached out to mess with it, and he left his hand on my fucking boob. And then he said, you know Astrid, I think your attitude could use a little improvement, and that he knew how I could improve my score on my upcoming employee review. Talk about gross.

Usually I would have kicked him in the nuts and left, but I needed a job, even if it meant that I would have to put up with this asshole. So I told him to get his hands off of me, and that if he ever touched me again I would cut his fucking balls off. Then I finished counting out the register and I walked out. I didn't go straight home, though. I needed to chill out so I walked around for a while before I walked home.

When I got back to the apartment it was after one in the morning. The elevator doors opened and Rube was standing there with his coat on about to go down. He was annoyed.

"You're late."

I said that I know, that I had a bad night at work. He didn't really look like he believed that. He said he had a reap to get to, and he'd see me in the morning. That was it. No yelling or anything. I was almost surprised, but not really. I dragged myself into my room and I really tried to sleep but I just couldn't. It was too quiet. I turned on the lights and tv and decided that if I had no one to talk to I might as well write in this thing, continue my assignment. Or whatever.

I can still hear the tv since I still don't have a door for my room.

Not having a door on my room means that I can't sleep in my underwear, because if I threw the covers off or something and Rube needed to take a piss he'd have to pass my room and see me laying there. I guess it's not that big of a deal, since he'd seen me in my underwear and even naked before. That doesn't mean that I actually want him to see me in my underwear if I can help it. The first night that Rube took my door away I slept in the pajamas he'd given me. That was weird. That meant that when it was time to get up and he stood in the doorway and ordered me to get out of bed and get dressed, I couldn't just pull on my jeans and be ready to go like normal.

He was mad because I lost my phone that night when I got smashed up in the car wreck. He said, "I gave you that phone", like that was the worst thing he could imagine me doing, losing something that he's given me. I said that if the cops found it and came looking for him, he could say he lost it hiking. He said that he wasn't stupid enough to use his real name when he got a cell phone, so no one would be looking for him. He was still pissed, though. He stomped around and was a little quieter than normal around me, which is the way he acts when he's mad at me. Even though he was mad, he didn't punish me besides giving me dirty looks. The thing about Rube is that once he gets mad and punishes me but once he does it's over with and I don't have to worry about him doing it again. I mean, he'll bitch to me if he's still mad enough but he won't beat my ass for the same thing twice. Even if he's still pissed off. And he was definitely still pissed off. I heard about it for the next two days. I never got a second alone, and every second I got the disapproving glares and the constant fucking criticism.

So Rube was cranky and but everything was fine until a couple of days later, which I think was Thursday. To say thanks for helping us out Rube had volunteered me to help Penny out with a backup of souls at County General, but we went to Der Waffle Haus first like we normally did. Rube's favorite waitress Kiffany was working. We hadn't seen Kiffany in a while. Rube asked where she'd been, and she said that she had some family stuff to take care of.

"You know how that is, right?" She asked Rube as she poured him some coffee.

"Why would I know how that is?"

She looked at him, then me. "Because you two had family business to take care of a few days ago. Isn't that why I didn't see you before I left town? Family business?"

Rube said no, not family business, and then he ordered us both omelets and home fries and ignored Kiffany's weird look as she left to get our food.

It was a boring morning. We ate. Rube read his paper. He was finished with the entertainment section of the newspaper so I picked it up and started reading. I wasn't really paying attention when Rube said he needed to go make a sissy. That meant he had to go to the bathroom. I just nodded and kept reading the movie reviews. He left, and I didn't notice that someone had walked into the diner and come over to the table. That was the first bad thing that happened that day. It wasn't actually bad at first. It started out pretty good.

"Jane, baby, you're a sight for sore eyes."

I looked up and Brook, one of my friends from back home, was standing over the booth grinning at me. I was really surprised to see him. He slid into the seat across from me and pushed away Rube's empty plates. I asked him what he was doing there and he looked a little offended.

"Aren't you even going to say you're happy to see me? Shit, if I moved a thousand miles away I'd be thrilled to see a familiar fucking face, even if it was me." He looked around at the cheesy Waffle Haus decorations and made a face. "This whole fucking town is in a time warp."

I told him I was happy to see him, and I really was. It felt like it had been years since I'd seen him, even though it was only really about six weeks. Even though I was happy to see him, it was weird to see him and I asked again what he was doing there. He said he was just in town and stopped by to say hi. I asked him what he was doing in town, and he said he was doing some business. Now I'd never known Brook to do any "business" out of town, so I didn't believe him. He said I looked like I gained weight, and maybe I'd been eating too many waffles. I told him to bite me. I asked him how he knew how to find me, and he just looked at me and grinned.

"Okay, you got me. Your man Santos asked me to look in on you while I was in town. He said you stopped calling him. He's worried."

When he said Santos' name, I got a weird feeling. Like this wasn't good. "Worried about what?"

"Baby, I don't know, but I wouldn't fuck around with him if I was you. You know how he is. Possessive and shit. I'm not saying it's right, and I'm sure as shit not saying it's wrong, so do not quote me, but you know how crazy and jealous he can get. And I don't understand it because since you left, he's gotten laid more than ever."

I groaned and said that I didn't want to talk about this with him. Brook never was very good at knowing when he should shut up, so he just kept going.

"I'm serious! It's crazy. You know those bitches he screws around with. Every day, all day. It's gotten to the point where I feel like if I hang around him too much I'm going to trip and fall into some pussy."

"Ew. I really don't want to talk about this. For real."

"Okay, whatever you want. I'm just saying. Even though he's got all of those women hanging around, he moons for you, baby. The man's in love."

I am one hundred percent positive that Santos is not and never was in love with me or anyone else. It was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard, and I told Brook that and he said that he was just telling me what Santos told him. I said he was shitting me. Brook asked, why have I been giving them the cold shoulder? Santos doesn't like it when I ignore him. It makes him unhappy, and when Santos isn't happy he makes everyone around him miserable. I said I thought you said that he was worried, but it sounds like he's mad, so is he worried or mad? Brook said he was both.

This was not what I was hoping would happen. In fact, that was pretty much the opposite of what I was hoping would happen. I thought about telling Brook that my new boss was keeping me under lock and key and spanking me when I pissed him off, and it was kind of hard to get a couple of minutes to myself to call my old boss and check in. Even if he believed me there was no reason to tell him, unless I wanted something bad to happen to Rube. And I didn't, whether he believes that or not.

"I don't believe you."

"All I know," He said quietly, "Is what I've been told. Santos said that someone else has been answering your phone and hanging up, a dude. Your boyfriend?"

"No, my phone got stolen a couple of weeks ago. I haven't been able to get a new one."

"You got a new man since you've been here?" He said, like an accusation. Like it would be wrong. I don't think I do anything wrong when I hook up with someone in order to get something. Money or a place to stay or something to eat. I know Rube thinks it's horrible, but whatever. I could steal instead like Mason does, is that better? Some reapers get jobs but I look like I'm seventeen and I have no job skills, so I think I do the best I can. I told him that if I did have a new man it wasn't anybody's business except mine. He said that Santos wouldn't like it.

"Santos can blow me. You both can. If he really cared about me he'd send money. Has he ever heard of Western Union?"

Just as I said that, I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Rube. He looked mad. This is where things took a turn for the worse. He and Brook looked at each other.

"Can I help you?" Rube asked him.

I wasn't going to say a word. Brook looked from me to Rube and back to me, confused.

"Hey. I don't think I need help, man. I'm a friend of Jane's from back home. Just stopping by to say hello."

Rube didn't say anything. He just kept glaring. I shook my head at Brook, trying to telepathically communicate with him and tell him to shut up. He didn't get it.

"Uh... you want to sit down?" Brook asked after an uncomfortable silence.

"Not with you. You should go now."

I tried to smooth things over. "It's okay, Rube, he's one of us."

Rube looked and sounded totally pissed off. "No, Jane, it's not okay. It is not okay for him to sit down at someone else's table in someone else's town when he was not invited to. You need to say goodbye to your friend now."

"Woah." Brook held up his hands. "Whatever you want. I'm leaving. No disrespect intended, man." The way he said that made it sound like he really did intend a lot of disrespect. He stood up and they were face to face, and then he took something out of his pocket, an envelope, and he threw it on the table in front of me. It had my name on it.

"Baby, please call home once in a while. We worry about you."

I didn't touch it. I watched while Brook stood up and stepped away from the booth just as Mason and George walked in together. They both saw Brook and stared as he walked past them and out the door. Rube sat down where Brook had been and glared at me.

"Who was that?"

"He told you. You didn't listen."

"I don't need your smart mouth. Just answer the question."

Mason and George walked to the booth and sat down, Mason next to me and George next to Rube. "Who was that guy?" She asked.

"Give us a minute here." Rube said, still glaring at me. "Answer the question."

"He's a reaper I know."

"What did he want?"

I said I don't know, I guess he wanted to give me an envelope, and then I told Rube that he didn't have to be such a prick to everybody.

"What's in it?" Mason started picking at my half-eaten food.

Rube rubbed his temples like he had a headache. "Mason, please. One minute without you talking, that's all I'm asking for."

I said I didn't know what was in it, and then I asked Rube if he was going to open it. He said that it wasn't addressed to him. So I opened it - I can never wait to open letters or presents or anything like that, I'm too impatient. Rube watched me. There was no letter or anything, just ten one hundred dollar bills. It was the most money I've ever had in my hand before, and I should have been really happy but I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. When I looked up Rube was looking at me like he was trying to figure something out.

"Whoa." Mason always knows exactly what to say. I'm being sarcastic, of course. "Jesus, what'd you do to get that, and how can I get in on it? I don't care what I have to do, I have no self-respect."

I rolled my eyes. "I guess he owed me some money." I folded up the envelope and stuck it in my pocket.

Rube looked like he didn't believe me. "You don't say. You must have forgotten all about it."

I just glared back at him.

"Well, Janie, I'm going to let you buy me breakfast. What do you say?" Mason didn't seem to notice our awkward conversation.

I said sure, why not. I was surprised that he didn't seem to remember that I owed him some money from the disaster that was trying to get back my stolen phone. Rube was still at it with the questions. "This reaper. You two good friends?"

Are we? I said I guess so, and I told them how Brook was the first person I saw when I'd died, and when he saw me staring at my body he grinned at me and said "welcome to the wild west". Brook thinks he's cuter than he is, and he thinks he can get away with a lot more than he can really get away with. I had no idea what to think about anything, and I just stared at him and couldn't say anything. He thought I was stupid or something for like weeks. Mason said that the first reaper he saw after he died was so grossed out by how Mason had drilled a hole in his brain that she ended up being sick all over Mason's apartment, which didn't really bother him once he figured out that he wouldn't have to clean it up. Since he was dead and everything. He said that his nickname in London had been Jacques after the French dude who invented the power drill. He said he hated that nickname, and George said that he shouldn't have told us about it in that case.

"Rube, you were the first person I saw when I died." George said. "You were a real asshole, too." She turned to me, like she was telling me something I didn't know. "I got hit by a toilet seat from a Russian space station. They called me toilet seat for a year. They thought the whole thing was hilarious."

I looked at her. "But that is kind of hilarious." Obviously.

She didn't think so. "Hey, shut up. What was the method of your demise, anyway? Let's see if I can think of a hilarious nickname for you."

I didn't answer her. Rube still looked irritated with me and I wanted him to forget about the whole thing, so I asked him who the first person he saw after he died was. He said it was his boss, and if we thought that he was an asshole we'd never met anyone like Willy. Rube said he was something special. He was a tough as nails Welsh mineworker who hated jews and hated Rube, and he was always threatening to cut his throat for looking at him the wrong way. I said that I didn't believe it but he said it was true. Rube did a great accent when he did an impression of him.

"The first time I met Willy Jones, he was standing in the dark smoking a cigar. He took one look at me and spit on the street. He said, 'You're dead, boyo. You'll not be saying goodbye to anyone, and you'd best learn to do as you're told.' Then he told me to follow him and he walked away, and I never saw it again. My mortal body, I mean."

"Didn't you go to your funeral?" Mason asked as helped himself to my orange juice.

"Didn't have one." That's something that Rube and I have in common. "The happiest day I can remember was when old Willy reaped his last soul and went on to his reward. "

George looked at him glumly. "That's depressing. I thought this was supposed to be a lighthearted conversation about the hazards of working with smartasses."

Rube just shrugged. "He did give me a cute nickname."

"What was that?"

"Dirty fucking heeb."

Mason sprayed orange juice all over the table. Rube jumped up bitching about how Mason got juice on his fucking shirt, and he made George get up so he could go rinse out his sleeve in the men's room sink. She sat down again and looked at me.

"So why did he give you that money, really?"

I honestly didn't know, and I said so. I knew it was from Santos. I guess it was one of his tricks. He loves to fuck with people. He loves to keep people guessing. He loves to keep me guessing. One minute he couldn't care less about me, then he hates me. Then he's worried about me and then he's pissed off at me. Then he fucking loves me. Then he sends me a thousand dollars and a weird cryptic message via Brook that freaks me right out. I said I didn't know. Soon Rube came back and told me to get off my ass, we had somewhere to be.

We left the diner and Rube walked really fast to his truck. It was turning out to be a nice day, not as cold and the sun was shining. Rube ranted as we walked. Lenore would say that he was as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She had lots of stupid sayings like that, since she's from Iowa.

"I'm not going to ask you why he gave you that money. I don't want to know. All I want to say is that I think it's a mistake. I think it's a mistake to take it."

"I'm not giving it back."

"Well, that's your decision to make. I'm just telling you what I think."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you telling me what you think?"

He stopped and turned to me, that weird look on his face. "Why do you think I'm telling you?"

I shrugged.

"You're some piece of work, kid. Get in the truck."

Before we left Rube had to read me the riot act, all about what I was supposed to do once I got to the hospital and how I was supposed to act and blah blah blah. I said whatever and got in the truck, but I started thinking. Penny said that she'd gotten her hydrocodone from the pharmacist. I wondered how many drugs they had floating around that place and how exactly I'd be able to get my hands on some. I guess that was when the other bad thing happened, or started to happen. I started to try to think of a way to steal pills. Well, not exactly steal. I figured that I'd be reaping someone who just didn't need the painkillers any more. I mean, dead people don't need drugs. Not counting me. I needed them, especially after the upsetting fucking morning I had.

We got to the hospital and surprise, it was depressing and awful. I mean, there were sick and dying people everywhere. Penny was sitting at the front desk arguing with someone about insurance forms while she was also on the phone. She was chewing on a pen cap like she wished it was a cigarette. We sat down on those really uncomfortable plastic chairs in the waiting room and waited for her to be done so she could tell us what to do. Well, tell me what to do. I kept waiting for Rube just to give me my marching orders and take off, but it didn't look like he was going to do it. I thought it would be harder than I expected to look for drugs.

We sat next to an old woman grandma type, white hair and glasses and cardigan sweater and everything who didn't look like she was a patient. She looked at me and asked if we were visiting someone. I didn't answer her until Rube poked me in the side with his elbow. I said sure, we're visiting someone. She asked what they were in the hospital for.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" She looked confused.

Rube turned his head really slow and glared at me.

"I mean, no one knows. He's sick and no one knows what it is."

"Oh, that's awful!"

I decided that it couldn't hurt to just keep building on the lie. It was fun, and besides it's not like I was ever going to see this person again. "Yeah, they thought it was the flesh eating virus at first because there are big parts of his body that are just falling off."

She looked shocked. "Falling off?"

Rube said of course not, not falling off. I nodded.

"Yeah, not falling off. I guess it's more like liquefying? Big pieces of his body are just kind of melting and like dripping off of him."

Rube stood up and grabbed me by the arm. He told the old lady to have a nice day and led me to some chairs across the room and made me sit down next to him, and told me not to talk to anyone else.

When Penny was able to get away from the front desk she came over and slumped down next to us. Rube asked her how things were going, and she said that if she could she'd tell all of the poor saps in the waiting room just to go home and wait to die, because that was what was going to happen here, only it would probably be less painful to do it at home in their own beds. Rube said that it seemed like she had a pretty cushy job, and she was pretty down in the dumps for having one of the nicer assignments. I agreed with Rube - at least Penny didn't have to hunt anyone down. She handed me and Rube some sheets she took off a doctor's prescription pad that had names and room numbers written on them. I got three, Rube got two.

"Try to be inconspicuous, all right sweetie?" She winked at me and kissed Rube on the cheek. "Thanks for the help, Chief. You're a lifesaver."

"Come on, not in front of the kid. You're undermining my authority here." Rube pushed her away, but I think he liked it.

He was on my shit all morning. It sucked. He was keeping his word about not letting me out of his sight. Every time I turned around he was right there glaring at me, all over the hospital from patient rooms and the hallway and the waiting room. It made it kind of hard to look for drugs. I finally got my chance when we were reaping someone in a coma. The guy was on a respirator so the only clue we had that he actually died was when his soul sat up and stared at us. Rube did his compassionate reaper thing and escorted the soul away from his body, and I took the opportunity to slip out of the room and look around.

I almost got caught when a nurse who obviously wasn't a reaper asked me what I was doing. I didn't really have time to think of anything good to say, but she saw the prescription sheet in my hand and told me that the pharmacy was on the second floor. I turned and walked to the elevator. I wandered around for a few minutes trying to look like I belonged there and after a while I found what I was looking for, a locked cart at an empty nurses' station in a quiet part of the building. It wasn't hard to find the keys. People always hide their keys in the same places, in a drawer under papers or inside a purse in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. I was surprised. I thought it would be harder than that, but it was so easy. I pushed the cart with the keys into a room where someone was sleeping and I looked inside and found big bottles of vicodin, darvocet and tramadol, and some other things I didn't care about. I'd fished an envelope out of desk drawer and emptied handfuls of pills into it, and then I folded it up and stuffed it into the waistband of my jeans. There was a chart in there with the names of the medications and the dates that pills were given to patients, and codes and doctor's names and shit. I guess they had to keep track of the drugs somehow. It crossed my mind that someone would probably get fired because the pills went missing, but I didn't really care. I left the cart unlocked and went back out to the hall and walked around some more trying to stop feeling like everyone knew that I had forty or fifty pills shoved down my pants.

My hands were shaking. I was nervous but I was also really fucking happy - what's the word to describe that? Giddy. This place was a fucking gold mine. I figured that it wouldn't be a good idea to try to keep the pills at Rube's since he was so fucking uptight about drugs, so I thought I would eat some as soon as I got a chance and I would sell the others. I thought I could get at least twenty bucks for each pill. I would be rich. I planned to give some of the vicodin to Mason as thanks for helping me out earlier. He knows how to appreciate those kinds of things.

I was still walking around trying to stop grinning like an idiot when Rube found me. He couldn't yell at me because there is no yelling in hospitals, but he did grab my arm so hard that it hurt.

"Where've you been?" He said through his teeth.

"This place freaks me out. I wanted a smoke."

He looked at me like he didn't believe me. "You haven't been smoking. You don't smell like smoke."

I didn't think he noticed things like that. I told him that I forgot my cigarettes and was looking for a machine.

"You think they sell cigarettes at a hospital?"

"I don't know, maybe."

He gave me that look again, the one he'd been giving me all day. Like he was trying to figure something out. Finally he just said, "You wander off again, I'll put you on a leash. Come on."

I followed him around as we did our other reaps - these were easy, we just popped the soul out, waited a while, then pointed to the lights and moved on when it was time for the next one. These were old, sick people were all either ready to die or knew it was going to happen, so there was no arguing or swearing at us or crying or anything. Most of them looked relieved.

I kept thinking about the pills in my jeans and all of the plans I had for them. I thought this was going to be fucking sweet, and I was sure that Rube didn't suspect anything. He was irritated that I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing and told me a couple of times to snap out of whatever my problem was. We'd just seen our last soul walk off into lights that looked like a huge farm with a barn and cows and everything, and Rube said something to me and I wasn't paying attention. So I said, what? He got mad.

"You haven't heard anything I've said to you for the last hour and half. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing is the matter with me. You're the one freaking out over nothing, so what's the matter with you?"

"Don't be smart with me today, kid."

"I'm not being smart, I just didn't hear you." I really didn't think I was being smart.

"I said that we had one more thing to do before we go home."

"How long is this going to take?"

"You in a hurry?" He glared at me. I knew to shut up.

We didn't pass Penny's station, so we didn't say goodbye to her. I was sorry. I like talking to Penny.

The drive seemed to take forever. I didn't know where we were going and my mind kept wandering. It hadn't snowed since that day I got wrecked. I wondered if anyone had found Nathan and his car yet, but I didn't really think about it much. I kept thinking about what I was going to do with the pills I'd taken. I wished that I could think of a believable excuse to ask Rube to pull over someplace private so I could eat a few. Like maybe I could say that I had to pee so we could go to a gas station and I could use the bathroom. I knew that was a stupid idea, since he had promised to keep such a close watch on me and I knew he would freak out on me if he found out what I was doing. I figured I would wait a few days until he relaxed before I gave in and indulged myself. Still, it was torture. I wanted one so bad.

I should have known something was up when Rube stopped at a drive thru and bought me a burger and a root beer in a styrofoam cup. I am a sucker. I thought it was just lunch. It's never just lunch with him.

I noticed that we seemed to be driving around and around and I told Rube that it looked like we were going in a big circle. That's when he sighed really loud and pulled over onto the shoulder. We were in a forested area in a neighborhood right on Lake Washington. There were big houses and pretty yards but no one around. I guess everyone was at work. He sat at the wheel for a minute without saying anything. I asked him what was going on.

"I want to ask you something."

"Okay." Right away I got a bad feeling. He knew about the pills. I couldn't hide anything from him.

"That reaper who came to see you today. Do you two have a... a relationship?"

I was confused. This wasn't about the pills at all. "Huh?"

"You two. Have you had sex?"

I could not believe he was asking me this. "Me and Brook? No! Why?"

He just looked at me. "He seemed to know you pretty well."

"Yeah, I told you. We're friends."

"You were acting like more than just friends. He gave you that money." Rube looked like he was in pain, like this was painful for him to talk about. He was so uncomfortable.

I realized what he was talking about. "Oh my god. You think I'm a hooker. You think I'm a fucking hooker!"

He held up his hands. "I'm just trying to figure out what was going on between you two."

"I can't believe that you think I'm a fucking hooker!" I threw my cup at him. It was empty, so it just bounced off of him.

"Hey!"

"You're such a fucking asshole!"

"Calm down!" He picked the cup off the seat.

I sat stiffly with my arms crossed. I was pissed off. I really couldn't believe that he thought I was having sex for money. Not that I have anything against that. I know people who have sex for money. What bothered me was that he seemed so bothered by it. Even if it was true, what was his problem? "When do you think that I did it, while you were in the bathroom? You think I give blowjobs for a thousand dollars a pop in Der Waffle Haus?"

"Come on."

"Or maybe I've given him a hundred twenty dollar blow jobs on credit, and he's finally paid up."

"Now you're just being vulgar, and that math doesn't even add up right." He made a face. "It's not as if you're innocent. I know you're not a v..." He stopped. And then he looked sorry.

Oh fuck no, there was no way I was going to put up with that shit. "I'm not a virgin. That's why you think I'm a fucking whore? You know what, you act nice but you're just like every other man. Just like mom's boyfriends, just like my old boss. All you really care about is who's fucking me!"

"That's not true. You work for me, so I need to know what's going on with you the same as I would with anyone else."

"So you know everything that goes on with your other reapers? What about Mason? It must be like a full time job for you to keep up with him."

"Just stop it."

"You want to know what's going on, I'll tell you. That money was from my old boss Santos. I don't know why he sent it and I don't know why he sent Brook to give it to me. You want all the fucking details, there you go. And you know what? George isn't a virgin either, so suck on that!"

He was quiet. "I'm not going to have this discussion with you. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Don't be sorry! Now I know who you really are."

"Jane, you're being ridiculous. I'm sorry. I mean it. I apologize. It was stupid of me. All right?"

I didn't care. I was mad. Now I knew what was really bothering Rube. I wondered how long he'd been thinking these kinds of things about me, then I decided that I didn't care and I was just going to stop caring what Rube thought all together. When I didn't answer, Rube sighed again.

"I've made a decision. I want you to give me the money."

"What? No!"

"I'm just going to hold onto it for you."

"Why? What do you think is going to happen?"

I think he thought he was explaining something really complicated that maybe I couldn't understand because I was just a dumb kid. "These kinds of things can be tricky. It might not end well, you might decide you want to give it back and you won't be able to if you spend it. Just believe me when I tell you it's not a good idea for you to owe money to anyone."

"You said it was my decision!"

"I know. I'm sorry. It was a mistake. I see that now."

"No. I'm not giving it to you."

He looked like he was trying not to get irritated. "I'm not asking, kid."

I was pissed. I glared at him but I knew better than to try to fight with him over it. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the envelope with the money in it, and I put it into his waiting hand. When I did my shirt lifted a little and he saw the envelope sticking out of the waistband of my jeans. He asked me what it was, and I guess I looked guilty or something because it was all over after that.

I'm tired. Too tired to get into what happened after Rube found those pills. I'm going to try to get some sleep before he comes back and I have to get up. Reaping and working for a living too is fucking exhausting.


	18. Chapter 18

Work today sucked ass. Not reaping - my reap was okay. I mean work at Trader's. I was still tired from work yesterday and I barely got any sleep last night. So I was dead tired all day. Chet was an asshole to me, I guess because of what happened yesterday. I think he is trying to make me quit, but I don't plan on it. I only have to do this for a few more weeks and then I'm out of there.

I was in the middle of processing a new bunch of trade-in CDs when Chet said he needed to talk to me alone. We went in the back room and he said that he needed to give me an official warning for walking off my shift yesterday. I said, what are you talking about, I only walked off after you fucking touched my boob! He just shoved a piece of paper at me and looked kind of nervous and said that I was lucky that I wasn't fired. I wanted to say that he was lucky that he wasn't digging my shoe out of his ass, but I just signed the paper where he told me to and went back to work. This job sucks. Luckily I'll only have to be here another few weeks, if everything works out like it's supposed to.

When I got back to the apartment Rube was already gone. There was a post-it on the door that I almost didn't see that said that he wanted me in bed by ten, that I had an early morning tomorrow. Like I could get to sleep anyway.

For a while he was making me go to bed by ten every night. It was insane. I hadn't had a bedtime since I was like eight, and here he was telling me to go get in my jammies and don't forget to brush my teeth. It was right after he found out I'd stolen the pills from the hospital. Which conveniently enough is right where I had to leave off last time.

Rube, if you're not impressed by how great this segue is than you're just not paying attention.

He'd just taken my money and said I was a hooker, and then he saw the envelope that I'd hidden in the waistband of my jeans. When Rube asked me what it was, I couldn't think of anything to say fast enough. Rube took my shirt and jerked it up so that he could grab the envelope out of my jeans. I tried to grab it at the same time and it ripped and pills went all over the seat and the floor of the truck. Rube looked at them, then he looked at me. His face turned red.

I thought I should say something to try to calm him down, diffuse the situation as they say on tv. "I know what you're thinking."

He glared at me. "If you knew what I was thinking you'd be running right now."

He bitched at me for a few minutes and I tried to decide if I should pick up the pills or if I should cut my losses and run for it. I began to think that maybe I wouldn't have to decide. Maybe Rube would just kick me out and I wouldn't have to decide.

I tried to say something to defend myself but he stuck his finger in my face and told me that he didn't want to hear a word from me, not one word.

"I can't believe that you actually made me feel bad for asking about that money."

I was surprised. I didn't know Rube could feel bad about anything. I thought he just did whatever he wanted and never cared about what anyone else thought. I couldn't think of anything to say, but I wasn't talking anyway so it didn't matter.

"What exactly was your plan here? Wait, I know. You didn't have a plan. This was just another example of how you can't control your childish fucking impulses! How could you think I wouldn't find out about this? Don't you think I would have noticed that you were high on pain pills?"

I shrugged. He looked like he was waiting for an answer, but he told me not to say a word so I didn't. And then he said why don't I answer him, and I said I thought I wasn't supposed to talk, and he told me not to be a smartass. I said I wasn't planning to take all of them. I was going to sell most of them. He asked what I needed money so bad for that I had to resort to stealing pills to sell. I just shrugged again. I guess that was the wrong answer.

"Have you already taken some?"

"No."

He looked at me like he didn't believe me. I told him that if I had I wouldn't have been so upset when he accused me of being a hooker, that I wouldn't have cared. Then he said that he never accused me of being a hooker, and that I was the one in trouble here and I should just drop it. I said whatever.

That was the wrong thing to say. He jumped out of the truck and came around to my side, and opened the door and yanked me out. I thought he was going to start whaling on me, but he just told me to pick up the pills. He watched as I scooped them all up and handed them to him. I had to lift the floor mat and pick them all up one by one. He put them back into a ripped half of the envelope. When he was done he folded the envelope back over and stuck it in his jacket pocket. Then he told me to get back in the truck.

I thought we would go back to the apartment. Instead we went the other direction, back to the hospital. I didn't want to go back to the hospital but I didn't want to ask him if that's where we were going, because he was pretty pissed off and I figured the less I bothered him the better. The ride was really awkward because we weren't talking and I could almost feel the anger just radiating off of him. It was kind of like when we drove from Vegas, except only maybe a fraction of how mad he was then. A tenth or maybe a twelfth. I don't know.

When we pulled up in front of the hospital I just groaned and asked him what we were doing there. I was pretty sure I already knew.

"You tell me."

"You want me to give back the pills."

"You are going to give back those pills. And you're going to apologize."

"To who?"

"Who do you think? To Penny."

I did not want to do that. The thing is, I never apologize. Not like I have anything against it. I mean, if I was an ass or something to a friend I would buy them a beer or something nice like that. I wouldn't say, oh I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I was wrong. I would just do something to make it up. And no matter what had gone on before, Rube had never made me say I was sorry for anything. Even when he made me pull down my pants for a whipping or write sentences I never had to actually say I was sorry. I told him that I wasn't going to do that. He didn't even look at me as he got out of the truck. He walked around to my side, opened the door and yanked me out again. I kept trying to talk to him as he dragged me through the parking lot to the hospital doors. I said that I meant it, that I wasn't going to say I was sorry and he couldn't make me, and I really didn't want to and there was no reason that Penny should find out about this at all, and why is he being such a jerk about this?

He didn't answer me. We ended up back at the front desk, where Penny looked surprised and kind of happy to see us, but that didn't last long once she saw the pissed-off look on Rube's face.

"Hey, you're back. What's going on?" She looked at Rube, then she looked at me. Rube asked if we could talk to her someplace private. Penny looked around and motioned to another nurse that she had to step out for a minute. She walked with us down a hall and checked inside a supply room before letting us step inside. She closed the door behind us.

Rube took out the envelope and discreetly handed it to her. She looked through the ripped open end and quickly shoved it into the pocket of her uniform. Her face turned pale. She didn't look mad, exactly, just really upset.

"Did you do this?" She asked me. I kind of nodded.

Rube gave me a shove. "Now say you're sorry."

"Sorry." I really hated saying it. Not because I wasn't sorry. I was sorry, sort of, to see Penny looking so upset. I hated saying it because it seemed so fake.

"You're sorry?" Penny snapped at me. I was surprised. "Someone is probably going to lose their job or maybe go to jail over this, and you're sorry?" I had thought about that but I never really thought that anyone would find out that it was my fault.

Then she asked me why I did it. I didn't know what to say. I mean, I did it because I could, because I wanted the pills and I wanted the money and I didn't think I'd get caught. Somehow I didn't think that she would like that answer.

Penny glared at me for a minute. I looked at Rube but he wasn't much help. He just told me to answer her.

"I don't know."

"Great!" She said, in a way that made it obvious that she didn't really think it was great at all. Then she looked at me and crossed her arms. "I helped you. Is this the way you treat people who help you?"

"It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Don't you know how much trouble..."

I cut her off. "Yeah, Rube already told me. Everyone suffers because he'll get in trouble."

She looked confused for a second. "Rube's not going to get in trouble. He's a pro. Did he tell you he'd get in trouble?"

I looked at Rube, who shrugged.

Penny glared at both of us. "Why don't you tell her the truth? That pulling this kind of shit is going to ruin whatever semblance of life she has?"

He looked at her. "I've tried. That doesn't work with her. She's missing whatever gene controls the drive for self-preservation."

"Hey." I was annoyed. "I'm right here. You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here."

Penny grabbed my arm, and she looked like she wanted to smack me. Instead she dragged me out of the room and down the hall. Rube followed us. He asked where were going and Penny said that she had something to show me.

She walks really fast, and she has a surprisingly strong grip.

We went down the hall to the elevator and took it up to the fourth floor. Then Penny dragged me down another hall and around a corner. The people we passed barely looked up. We stopped at a door that Penny opened quietly, and told us to get inside. She closed the door behind us and I looked around. It was a hospital room, just the same as the other rooms I'd been in that day, with the same layout. It was dark and I could see someone laying in the bed. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim light and then I could see the person laying there was an old woman and she was hooked up to a lot of machines. A big IV pump with like six bags of stuff hanging off of it, a machine that was attached to a blood pressure cuff and some other machine that I guess was to watch her heartbeat. She was just laying there, asleep.

Penny pushed me up to the side of the bed and told me to take a look. Rube stood back by the door watching us.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"This woman. Look at this poor woman. Look at her!" She hissed.

"Okay, I'm looking!"

"Her name is Mrs. Marshall. Know why she's here?"

She didn't wait for me to answer.

"She's here because she got hooked on Vicodin ten years ago and she's destroyed her kidneys and her liver and seriously damaged her heart, and now she's dying. You want to guess how old she is?"

I shrugged. "Fifty?"

She shook her head. "Thirty-four."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised, but I guess I hid it well because she glared at me.

"I get it. You've seen it all, right? This doesn't shock you. This woman dying in front of you because she had a bad habit doesn't shock you."

"Not really."

"Well, sweetie, I want you to understand something. This will never happen to you. You won't be suffering from organ failure in a hospital bed, which by the way isn't the greatest way to die. All of those tubes delivering medication and painkillers, you won't have to deal with that. You won't be emaciated and so weak that you can't lift your head or chew food."

I nodded. Duh. I wondered where she was going with this.

"You're lucky that way."

Lucky. I felt like laughing. No one had ever called me lucky before.

"But you know what? Your life will be over anyway. All of this will happen to you in here." She reached up and poked my forehead.

"Mrs. Marshall has a family, but they don't visit her. They got tired of watching her kill herself a long time ago. And she had friends. A couple of them came to visit when she was admitted, but they stopped coming a long time ago. They've lost interest in her, just like she lost interest in everything else years ago. Now she just spends her time sleeping and waiting to die."

I shook my head. "This is dumb. This has nothing to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you! I've seen it happen to reapers a lot stronger than you!" She looked pissed, and she raised her voice so loud that Mrs. Marshall kind of groaned and rolled her head sideways. I don't think she woke up.

"I just take pills to relax!"

"Don't you understand what I'm saying? It's only a matter of time. You won't be able to enjoy anything, your friends will disappear and you'll spend all your time waiting to die!"

"Penny, come on." Rube came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. He pulled us both out of the room and back into the hallway, closing the door quietly. "You're wasting your time getting all worked up about this. You can't appeal to her logically or emotionally. The kid only responds to punishment and reward."

That just isn't true. I can be totally logical when I want to be. Besides, when has Rube ever tried rewarding me for anything?

Penny sighed and looked at me. I would have thought she looked sad if she also didn't look so pissed. "I guess you'll have to deal with her, Chief."

I hate it when they talk about me like I'm not there. Rube said that she didn't need to worry about it, and that he was sorry for all the trouble. She mumbled something about how that's what she gets for helping someone, and stormed off down the hall.

So I guess it should be pretty clear that I got a pretty awful ass beating. I mean, not there in the hospital. Rube dragged me out of there and took me back to the apartment to do that. He didn't do it right away. He said he was too angry to deal with me and when we got back to the apartment he made me stand in the corner in the living room for the rest of the afternoon. For real, it was like four hours of standing in the corner. He told me not to move and not to talk to him, but who can do that for four hours? I talked to him a few times but he ignored me. He just went around the apartment doing his normal stuff, like cleaning up and rearranging the clothes in his wardrobe and doing paperwork. He smoked his pipe and listened to the radio.

It turns out that standing still for four hours is really hard. I never thought about it before. It's really, really hard. I shifted position, I walked in place, I balanced on one leg for awhile and I leaned against the wall. Rube snapped at me to stand up straight and stop fidgeting. I mostly thought about what Rube was going to do to me. A couple of times I thought about turning around and walking out the door. I didn't think he'd try to stop me. But he'd taken all my money and I didn't have anywhere else to go. So I stayed.

I couldn't help thinking about how mad Penny was at me. It sucked. It was one thing for Rube to mad at me - He's always mad at me. But Penny was really nice to me, and I felt bad for pissing her off. I don't really understand why she thought she could teach me a lesson about taking pills. It's not like I'm a junkie. I can control myself. Why does everyone find that so hard to understand? That was one good thing about working for Santos. He never cared what I did and he never expected anything from me.

After a while Rube picked up the phone and I listened to him order some Chinese food. When it showed up a half hour later I was still standing in the corner, and I wasn't sure if the delivery guy could see me from the doorway, and I wondered what he thought if he could see me. I tried to stand really still for the few seconds that the door was open, even though I don't give a shit what a delivery guy thinks.

Rube told me I could come out of the corner to eat, and he set the food on the table. We ate out of the containers with those flimsy chopsticks you pull apart without talking, because he was still pissed at me. Well, he ate without talking. I didn't really feel like eating.

When we were done Rube started cleaning up and told me to go get ready for bed and wait for him in my room.

I looked at the clock on the mantel. "It's only eight."

He slammed a carton of broccoli and beef down on the table. "Any more arguments from you and we'll repeat tonight's whipping tomorrow. Now go"  
I wasn't really arguing, technically I was only pointing out how early it was. But I hauled ass anyway.

I have a pretty good idea of what Rube wants me to do to get ready for bed. If I was by myself I would just take off my clothes and get into bed, or not take off my clothes and get into bed. But I know Rube - he's picky and everything has to be a certain way and it has to be the same every day. I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and washed my face and then I went to my room and changed into my pajamas. Then I waited. It was boring, and also nerve wracking. It's a weird feeling to be sent to my room to change into my pajamas and wait for Rube to come give me a beating. I looked out the window at what I could see of the street down there. It was dark by now, and there were some street lights coming on. There was a thunderstorm starting. It was raining pretty hard, but I could kind of see into the building across the street. It looked like some kind of office building. A cleaning crew was in there with vacuum cleaners and dusters. I watched them work for a while.

Since the door was gone there was nothing for Rube to knock on and no way for me to know he was there. So when he said my name I jumped and turned around. He had a serious look on his face and he said we should get this over with. He was carrying a big wooden hairbrush that I had never seen before.

"What's that for?" I had no idea what he was going to do with that thing. Brush my hair? I'd never heard of anyone getting spanked with a hairbrush before. For real. Who does that? People in the 1800s probably.

"What do you think?"

It dawned on me. "You're not going to hit me with that!"

"No, I'm going to spank you with it." He slapped it against his hand. "It's a little harder than my belt and a little heavier. I've got no doubt that it will hurt a lot more, too. But you've earned it."

Okay, Rube is the biggest dork I have ever met. I think he was trying to intimidate me but I just rolled my eyes. I said that this whole thing was fucking ridiculous, and he needs to just get over it.

"No, Jane," Rube said loudly. "You know what's fucking ridiculous? I've been watching you like a hawk the last few days and the moment you're out of my sight you do something stupid. Not just stupid, but illegal and despicable. That is fucking ridiculous! You could have gotten Penny in serious trouble just because you wanted to get high!"

I groaned. "I told you, I wasn't going to take all of those! I was going to sell them!"

Rube looked at me like he was trying to figure something out. "You never told me why you needed that money so badly. Does it have something to do with the visit from your friend today?"

I don't know why he thought of that. I could have told him that it was to get away from him, but I didn't think he'd like that. "No. I just... need it." It was lame, but I couldn't think of anything believable.

"Well, I hope it was worth it. With one stupid move you've managed to piss off me and Penny, who was probably the only person in this town who would have bent over backwards for you."

"I don't need anyone to bend over backwards for me."

"That's right, I forgot! You're totally self-sufficient. You never need anyone to help you out, and god forbid that someone should try to give you some good advice!" Rube is always so fucking condescending. He thinks he knows everything, and it pisses me off. I guess I was already mad about everything, having to stand in the corner for so long, being ordered around and treated like shit, and I just kind of lost it on him.

"Would you just get off my back!" I yelled. "I don't want your stupid help, and I don't want your stupid advice! And since I always fuck up so badly, why don't you just give me my money back and I'll leave and you can get on on with your boring fucking life!"

He told me that I was one word away from getting another spanking tomorrow, and I needed to shut my mouth. I'm not stupid, so I stopped yelling. He said, look at that, I am learning to follow orders after all. These talks must be working. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. But I didn't.

Okay, what happened next was pretty weird. Rube usually makes me take my pants down and bend over for my whippings and I wasn't sure how it was going to work with a hairbrush. He'd have to be pretty close to me to hit me with that thing, and I didn't plan to make it easy for him. He sat down on the edge of the bed and told me to come over to him. I stood in front of him while he rolled up his shirt sleeve.

"Do you remember what I said would happen if I caught you with drugs again?"

Of course I remembered. It was fucking traumatic. "You said if I brought drugs into your house again, but those pills were never in your house. So..."

"So?" He raised an eyebrow. How do people do that? Raise just one eyebrow? I've tried and I can't do it. "You think semantics make a difference here? You disobeyed me. You thought about it, you planned it, you waited until my back was turned, and you disobeyed me."

I didn't have anything to say about that. Rube said he was disappointed in me. I didn't have anything to say about that either. Disappointed? What is that supposed to mean, and why should I care?

"Here's what's going to happen," He said, and I thought "Oh shit". Because every time Rube says that it means something awful is going to happen to me.

"I'm going to spank you."

I swear to god, there was a huge crack of thunder right then. It was fucking ominous.

"Then you're going to go to bed. Starting tomorrow, you're grounded. No television, no phone calls. You're not going to go anywhere or talk to anyone without me being there. You'll be well behaved and pleasant. You'll eat everything that's put in front of you without complaining, and you'll be in bed by ten every night unless you have a reap. If you don't do exactly as I just said, you and I will be having a lot more of these talks. And if I hear even one word of argument, you'll be going back over my knee tomorrow. Do you understand?"

I must have looked like I was going to argue, because he held up his finger like, you! No arguing! "Do you understand?"

I asked him how long I was supposed to be grounded.

"Until you learn to do as you're told. You know, I didn't think I would have to get to this point with you, kid. I was beginning to think that I knew who you were."

Then he told me to pull my pajama bottoms down and bend over his lap, and I looked at him like he was out of his mind, which he might be. Who knows. I had to think about it for a second. I wasn't sure about this. He had grabbed me and pulled me over his lap before, when I freaked out on him, and getting spanked like that wasn't as horrible as being whipped. So I thought maybe it would be better than bending over for the belt.

Rube made an impatient noise and I decided just to do what he said. He was already pissed off, "disappointed", whatever that meant, and I didn't want him to decide he needed to upgrade the punishment. So I did it. I pulled my pants down to my knees and bent over so my ass was over his right thigh and my elbows were on the bed. Then I waited.

It was a different experience, that's for fucking sure.

The first lick didn't really hurt for a second. At first all I felt was a thud. Then the burning. The he spanked again, then again. It was worse than his hand, but not as bad as the belt. Not at first, anyway. After a couple of minutes the burning turned into burning fucking pain and it was so much worse than anything he'd done to me before. I yelled my damn head off, and he just told me to quiet! Like I could! I put my hand back over my ass and he grabbed it and pushed it against my back.

I yelled at him to stop, but he just kept on spanking me and he actually started lecturing me while he brought that fucking brush down over and over. I could tell that this was not a normal spanking.

"You've brought this on yourself, Jane. You're going to learn to do as you're told. And if you don't, you're going to find yourself in this position every time."

I kept yelling and he kept spanking. I managed not to cry, but I came close. When he finally stopped I wrenched myself off of his lap and tripped over my pants and fell over a box of junk. He tried to help me up, but I shook him off and stood up and pulled my pants up and called him a cocksucker.

"Calm down. It's over." He still had that damn brush in his hand.

"Calm down?" I rubbed my scorched ass through my pants. "YOU calm down! Jesus Fucking Christ, Rube, what the hell is your problem?"

He shook his head and told me to go to bed, and to remember that I was grounded. Then he left without saying anything else. I remember just staring at the empty doorway after he left, still not believing what just happened. It was thundering and lightening but I got into bed (on my stomach) and managed to fall asleep even though I was still in pain.

I woke up a few hours later and everything looked kind of weird. The light was wrong. Shadows were flickering against the wall. It took me a few seconds to realize that the electricity had gone out because of the storm and the lights were off. At some point Rube had come in and set up an oil lamp on top of the dresser. I guess he remembered that I always slept with the lights on. It was kind of nice of him, I guess.

And he thinks I'm the confusing one. 


	19. Chapter 19

So today has been kind of strange. I guess that if I'm going to write about my fucked up like I should just write about it as it happens, right? So I'll start by writing down what happened when I woke up.

I woke up because Rube had his hands on my shoulders and was shaking me. He was annoyed. He said he'd been yelling at me get up for five minutes, that it was morning and we had to get moving. I was really groggy. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep. He pulled off the covers and yanked my pillow out from under my head, which woke me right up. I sat up and yelled at him and called him and asshole, and he asked me what was wrong with me. Then he asked if I was on drugs.

I rolled my eyes. "No. I'm just tired!"

"Why are you so tired? Did you go to bed when I told you to?"

"Yeah. I can't sleep."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I have two jobs and a boss who won't let me."

He told me not to be a smartass. Then he looked at me like he was trying to figure something out.

"You've been working pretty hard the last few days. Why don't you sleep in this morning? You don't have a reap until tonight."

"Great." I flopped down on the bed and pulled the covers back up over my head.

"You'll miss breakfast."

"Not hungry."

Rube must have stood there for a few seconds, because it was quiet and then he said that he'd see me later. I just said fine, good night, I will see you later. I tried to get back to sleep but I was already awake. It made me mad. I mean, who wakes someone up to tell them to sleep in? WHO? So I got up and went to the living room and watched some morning talk show. I managed to fall asleep then because it was so boring. I woke up again a couple of hours later because Rube was shaking me. Again. He was holding this notebook and he looked PISSED.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

I was still sleepy and I didn't know what he was talking about. He looked at me like I was the stupidest person he'd ever met. He opened the book to one of the last page I wrote on and pointed at it.

"You wrote here that your boss at Trader's groped you. Is that true?"

I said yes, but it wasn't a big deal, and Rube said of course it was a big fucking deal. I asked why. He said that he had to know everything that was going on with me. And I asked why again, and he said because he was the fucking boss and he gets to decide what's a big deal and what isn't, that's why, and then he told me to go to my room. So I said why do I have to go to my room? And he said that he thought he just said that he was the boss and that I didn't want to test his patience this morning. I said whatever and I went and curled up on my bed and a few minutes later Rube stuck his head through the doorway. He still had this notebook. He waved it at me and then he tossed it on the dresser.

"Anything else happen that you want to tell me about?"

I said no, that everything was in there. He looked at me for a minute, then he said that I was going to quit my job today. I said that Chet was out today so there was no one to take my resignation and I wasn't scheduled to go in until tomorrow anyway. He said, fine, I could do it tomorrow. I said fine. And then he ignored me for another two hours, which was actually kind of impressive because the apartment is so tiny that we're pretty much on top of each other all the time.

That's the most he's spoken to me in days. I really do not know what his problem is.

At least he hasn't decided to whip me. I can deal with the silent treatment or the constant bitching, whatever. As long as he doesn't use that brush on me again.

That spanking he'd given me left me a little sore the next morning, which almost never happens. I was mad all night and I just lay there thinking. I don't know who I was mad at, and I'm not used to feeling like that, not knowing why I'm feeling like I feel. I hate it. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. I kept thinking about Penny, what she said and how upset she looked when Rube handed her those pills. And then how Rube said that she couldn't talk to me logically. And how he said he thought I knew who I was.

I also kept thinking about Brook's visit that day and Santos, and why the hell did Santos send me that money. Why didn't he at least send me a letter or something so I could figure out what the hell he wanted from me? I was confused, and I was angry, and I really resented Rube and Penny and everyone else. Plus I was angry and frustrated because it was pretty clear that Rube wasn't actually trying to get me a transfer and I would just have to wait until whatever forces that be decided I'd served my time here. So I was in a bad mood.

I had decided that I wasn't talking to him that morning, but when I woke up and he was in my room messing around with the oil lamp on the dresser. He was wiping the tall glass part with a crumpled up newspaper and whistling like some kind of cheerful fucking nutjob. He saw I was awake and said rise and shine, kid, it's time to get going. I was confused. Why was he so happy? It didn't matter. I didn't want to know. I just wanted him to leave me alone so I did what he told me to do, but he wouldn't leave me alone. I guess he was trying to make sure that I knew I was grounded but I wasn't making it easy for him. He told me to get dressed and I took my clothes to the bathroom and locked the door and stayed in there until he pounded on the door and yelled that if I didn't get out, he was going to take that door off the hinges too. I opened the door and glared at him and he just said it was time to go, and to shake a leg. I followed him, but I didn't like it. If it wasn't so ridiculous I would have dragged my feet.

We were late, but we were still the first two people from our group at Der Waffle Haus. When we got there and sat down Kiffany handed us two menus. The blue one was the regular breakfast menu. The green one was new.

"What's this?" Rube asked her.

"Der Waffle Haus is now serving our dinner menu all day." She sounded like she'd practiced that.

Rube looked disgusted. "Why the hell are you doing that?"

Kiffany shrugged and said that management thought it would be a good idea.

I said that I thought it was a great idea. "So I could get a milkshake for breakfast?" I was weirdly excited about it.

"That's right." Kiffany smiled at me.

"No, you can't." Rube had to kill the mood.

"Why not?"

"Because milkshakes aren't breakfast."

"Why not?"

He gave me an annoyed look. "They just aren't. It's not on the breakfast menu, is it? Besides, it's just sugar."

"So is maple syrup, but that's on the breakfast menu."

Kiffany looked back and forth at us while we argued.

"So order a glass of syrup."

I said that was gross, and Kiffany cleared her throat. "You two want me to come back?"

Rube said no and he ordered blueberry pancakes and orange juice for both of us. Once Kiffany left he leaned over and growled at me.

"You're really pushing it with the attitude this morning, kid."

I said what attitude. He said that last night he told me that I was going to be pleasant, and unless I was in the mood to get another spanking after breakfast I needed to start acting that way. I just rolled my eyes at him.

"You know," he said, with that fucking know-it-all look on his face, "If you don't like this arrangement you can just leave."

"Yeah, right. So my choices are staying here with you and being miserable or leaving and getting creamed by gravelings."

"You're amazing." He was being sarcastic, of course. "I wish life as simple for me as it is for you. You really think those are your only options?"

"Yeah."

"How about staying here and not being miserable?"

I told him that I didn't think that was possible.

"That's right, you've got such a sad fucking life. You're going to have to learn a new song, kid, that one's getting real old. You've got free room and board, perfect health, seems to me that the world is your oyster. Most kids your age are doing things with themselves, things they enjoy."

I slumped onto my arms. "Most kids my age aren't dead."

"Statistically speaking, that's probably true. You're right. You should keep feeling sorry for yourself."

"I don't feel sorry for myself."

"Whatever you say."

We didn't talk for the rest of the morning.

Those next few days were weird and tense. Somehow Rube arranged it so that he was always with me for my reaps and I was always with him for his reaps. It was ridiculous. I had nothing to do all day and we just continued his boring fucking routine. He was back to treating me like something he found on the bottom of his shoe, yelling at me about every fucking thing, even when all I was doing was sitting there reading.

Oh yeah, I had to read because I still wasn't allowed to watch tv. I hated it. TV was the one thing that I had to break up the monotony of the day, and now it was off limits. I went through the books on Rube's shelf and read some of them, or tried to read some of them. He had a bunch of literature, like stuff you'd read in English class. I tried to read For Whom the Bell Tolls but it was boring. Plus it was all about death and war. Everyone talking about how they're going to die for sure and knowing that they will die, etc. I don't want to read about that shit. I mean, I live that shit. Why would I want to think about it when I don't have to?

Rube said that I am probably not smart enough to understand the subtlety of Hemingway anyway. I said, what subtlety? I said he was a terrible fucking writer and he hated women too. I don't know if that is true, actually. I heard that somewhere and it sounds like something that's probably true. He said that Hemingway was the best American writer of the 20th century and I should read some of his short stories. He said he'd be really interested to hear what I think about them.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. I don't believe that you want to hear what I think about anything."

Rube looked thoughtful. "One who is deaf has never heard music."

"What does that mean?" I'm so sick of his intellectual bullshit.

"It's from Hemingway. One who is deaf has never heard music, so one might not believe it exists. Just because you don't believe in something doesn't mean it isn't so." Like that was supposed to explain everything. Like it was the secret of the fucking universe.

He took a book of short stories off the shelf and handed it to me. He told me to read them and tell him what I think.

I never did. I just got some magazines when we were out, and I tried to read a couple of cheesy romance novels that I found at the laundromat. Other than that I looked out the window at the offices across the street. Or I listened to the radio. It was boring.

Things got really exciting a few days later. It was like two in the morning, so of course I was in bed staring at the ceiling and listening to Rube snore in the living room. All of a sudden there was pounding on the door. Like, really loud frantic pounding. I jumped out of bed and I could hear Rube doing the same thing, and I came down the hall just as he turned on the light. He opened the door and George pushed her way inside.

She looked upset, and she smelled pretty strongly of booze. She saw me standing in the hallway door and looked confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to sleep." I thought that would be obvious, since I was wearing pajamas.

"Do you live here? Rube, does she live here?"

Rube closed the door behind her and rubbed his forehead. "Peanut, it's two o' clock in the morning. Let's cut to the chase. What do you want?"

She was still staring at me. "I can't believe this! It took me weeks to find someplace to live when I died! You never offered to let me stay with you!"

"Jane, go back to bed." Rube said. "George, either tell me what you want or go. It's too early in the morning for this bullshit."

I took a step back but I didn't go. I wanted to hear what was going on. George said that she needed some help and she didn't know who else to go to. She said that something was wrong with Mason. They were at a party with some of Mason's friends, and things got a little out of hand and Mason took some kind of drugs and wouldn't wake up.

"Not my problem." Rube yawned, and turned around. He saw me standing there. "I told you to go back to bed."

"Not your problem?" George glared at him. "What do you mean, not your problem? Of course it's your fucking problem! It's Mason!"

"I'm tired of playing nursemaid to you bunch of delinquents. He'll wake up. Give him time."

"Yeah, he'll wake up, but what am I going to do with him then? His friends at the party were freaking out and they wanted to call an ambulance, and I barely got them to help me put him in my car. I can't get him out by myself! Someone is going to see him out there and call the cops, and if I have to explain why I have a comatose British guy in my car, that I've been driving around drunk off my ass, by the way, then I am going to make it your problem!" She poked Rube in the chest. She was pissed.

He sighed. After a few seconds he said fine, but not here. He said that we were going to go to George's house, and then he turned to me and told me to put some clothes on. He asked George to wait in the hall, quietly, so he could change his clothes. We both did and then we followed her down to the parking lot where Mason was passed out in her car. I noticed that there was a large dent in the rear bumper of her car, and I asked her about it. She said that she backed into a tree when she was leaving the party. I guess her no drunk driving policy didn't apply when she needed to get the fuck out of someplace in a hurry.

Rube thought she was in no shape to drive and told me to drive George's car. I was surprised, but he was all business so I just did it. I thought maybe he would loosen up. This was the first time in a long time that anything interesting had happened where I hadn't gotten in trouble. Mason had already puked on himself, and the car stank to high heaven. I knew that George was going to pitch a fit about that.

I followed her and Rube to the house that she shared with Mason and Daisy. The streets were empty, of course, since it was so early in the morning. That was good. None of the neighbors saw us dragging Mason into the house.

Daisy wasn't home. I guess she has a late audition or something.

Rube had us drag Mason into the bathroom. We put him in the empty tub and watched while Rube took Mason's leather jacket off. He checked all the pockets and I got this strange feeling. It was like watching some weird version of my life. I wonder if this is how I looked after they found me in the dumpster. Rube found a baggie with some grayish powder and some white crack rock. He reached in another pocket and found a lighter and a a couple of packets of foil that I guess Mason used to burn his junk. Rube shoved these things at George and told her to get rid of them. She just stared at them. She looked like she was having a hard time processing this. Rube handed me the puke covered jacket and I tossed it in a hamper.

Once Mason was in just his t-shirt we could see the rubber strap around his arm and the smear of blood in the crook of his elbow. But there was no needle. I guess that one of his friends pulled it out. He started twitching and George asked what was happening. Rube leaned over him and checked the pulse in his neck. Mason stopped moving.

"His heart stopped. Give it a minute. It'll start again."

George still looked freaked out. She held up the baggie. "What is this stuff?"

"Speedball," I said. "Junk and some kind of upper. It's probably coke cut with amphetamines."

Rube and George both looked at me. I shrugged. "That's what it looks like to me." And smelled like, but I wasn't going to say that.

"How do you know that?" George asked.

"Never mind." Rube was annoyed. "Just flush it down the toilet."

George did what he said, and then she declared that she needed a drink, and did anyone else want one? Rube said that she'd already had more than enough to drink tonight, and why didn't she make herself some coffee. She agreed and disappeared into the kitchen. Rube and I sat and watched Mason. He was really still and didn't seem to be breathing. Just when I was about to ask if we should do something, Mason sat up and took a really noisy gasping breath. Sacred the crap out of me.

He coughed and looked around with this crazy expression on his face, like he didn't know he was in his own bathroom. He saw us and it took a few seconds for him to recognize us. "Rube?"

"That's right, you piece of shit. Time to wake up."

I thought that was a little harsh. Mason just grinned. He's used to Rube treating him like he hates him. Maybe he does hate him. He groaned again and rubbed his head. "What the fuck happened?"

"According to your pal Jane here, you've been injecting something called speedballs. Ring any bells?"

"Oh yeah." He laid back down in the tub and groaned. Then he checked his jeans pockets. "Where's my jacket?"

"Up your ass, where my foot's going to be in a second!" George was standing in the doorway and she looked like she wanted to kill Mason.

"Georgie," Mason groaned. Before he could say anything else she was charging across the bathroom at him. Rube had to grab her and hold her back. It was crazy. I thought there was going to be bloodshed.

"You son of a bitch!" She yelled. "What do you want your jacket for, huh? You want to do more drugs and throw up on yourself? Asshole!"

Rube managed to get her out of the bathroom and I could hear him talking to her to try to calm her down. She, of course, got all emotional and cried and ended up running upstairs to her room. Jesus. Mason and I looked at each other.

"So, where is my jacket, really?" He asked me.

"George flushed your junk."

"Fuck." He looked disappointed.

"You weren't going to do that shit again, were you? I mean, it basically killed you."

He sighed and said, yeah, it must have been cut with something bad, but he really just didn't want to come down like this. Then he said his ears were ringing and he just wanted to get some sleep. Before I could ask him if he wanted some help to the couch he slumped down in the tub and fell asleep. I couldn't believe it. If my heart had stopped and George came at me swinging I would have said enough. I mean, I would have quit. I would have walked away. I don't know what Mason's problem is, but he needs help.

Rube came back in the bathroom, took a look at Mason and said it was time to go. I said maybe we should stay and keep on eye on Mason so George doesn't murder him in his sleep. He said that anything George did to him would be good for him at this point.

So we left them like that, George drunkenly sobbing in her room and Mason asleep in the bathtub. Sometimes this place is so fucking dramatic.

I expected Rube to try to talk to me about drugs on the ride home, but he didn't. He let me smoke with the window rolled down, so that was nice of him. He said he was hungry and it was almost breakfast time anyway so we stopped at 7-11 and got some junk food. He got beef jerky and I got cheetos and a blue slurpee. It had been months since I had a slurpee. It was fucking delicious. We sat outside on the curb and ate our junk food and I chain smoked five cigarettes.

Once I was actually happy, enjoying my smokes and my slurpee, Rube decided to talk to me about what happened. I should have known. He always waits until you least expect it to kick you in the balls. I knew it was coming and I just decided to get it over with as soon as I could.

"Just so you know, kid. What Mason did back there? He's an idiot."

I threw my cigarette butt into the parking lot and watched it smolder. "I know."

He seemed surprised. "You do."

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Is that all you have to say about it?"

"Pretty much."

"I see. So you don't have any plans to follow in his footsteps."

"Nope."

"You knew all about the drugs he was on. That's not really a very good sign."

"I know a lot of things about a lot of things. Am I in trouble for knowing shit?" I tried to keep my voice level. I didn't want him to accuse me of having an "attitude" and tell me to watch my mouth, which is like his favorite thing to do.

"No. I just want to make sure that you know that kind of thing isn't acceptable."

"I know."

"That kind of thing will get your ass kicked up and down the street."

"I know! I don't use needles, okay?" He was making me mad. I lit another cigarette.

"That's not exactly what I was hoping to hear."

"What do you want to hear?" I stood up. "Will you just tell me so we can stop this pointless fucking conversation?"

He told me to sit down. When I did, he said that he just wanted to make it crystal clear to me that what happened tonight wasn't something that he ever wanted to happen again, especially with me. I said that I got it, but that he really should be talking to Mason. Rube chuckled.

"I stopped trying to talk to him a long time ago."

"Why don't you just beat him? It works on me, right?"

"Nah. Mason's a grown man. You're still a kid."

"I don't feel like a kid."

He sighed. "I know you don't."

He was quiet after that and after I finished smoking, we went back to the apartment to try and get an hour of sleep before the work day began.


	20. Chapter 20

So today has been the most embarrassing day of my life. I told Rube that and he said that I was exaggerating, that more embarrassing things must have happened to me. I thought about that, but no, this was the worst. Way more embarrassing than the time in first grade that Anita Gomez got a green bean stuck in her nose at lunch, and I laughed so hard that I pissed my pants and had to wait outside the office in my wet clothes for my mom to come get me. She sent her boyfriend Al instead. He was a real asshole about it. He was angry because I'd torn him away from drinking in the middle of the day when he was supposed to be looking for a job.

It was also more embarrassing than right after I died when I found out that the picture they put on my missing poster was my eighth grade school photo because my mom didn't have a more recent one. I had the ugliest fucking haircut, and I was going through my goth phase so I was wearing really heavy eye liner and black lipstick and I wasn't even smiling. I looked like a total fucking freak. I should have gotten my driver's license before I died. Then at least there would have had a normal picture to put on my poster.

Rube made me quit my job today, but he didn't trust me not to fuck it up (like he trusts me not to fuck anything up) so he had to COME TO WORK WITH ME, even though I TOLD HIM that I didn't need him there. I'm actually surprised he didn't made me hold his hand the whole time. Some of my coworkers were there and they stared at us when we came in. Holly was there rearranging the romance DVDs and I tried not to look at her.

Chet was standing at the register talking to a customer and Rube made us stand behind them and wait. He looked at us with a weird expression on his face, but finally the customer left and Rube told him that I wasn't going to be working there anymore. Chet didn't look like he cared either way. He just told me to get anything I might have left in the back room, and Rube stayed out front.

It took me a minute to get my locker open, because the stupid lock always sticks. Holly came back there and she looked excited.

"Dude, your dad is bad ass!"

I told her that Rube wasn't my dad. And then I asked her what she was talking about. She said it was awesome. Apparently Rube told Chet that he knew what he did, and Chet said he didn't know what Rube was talking about. Then Rube said that he didn't need to worry, that no one was going to press charges or sue him or anything, but that if Chet ever saw him walking down the street it would probably be a good idea for him to turn around and walk the other way. He said that he didn't want to get ugly right here, but if he heard about Chet taking advantage of the kids that work for him again it would get really fucking ugly. Somewhere in there Rube called him a slimeball.

Holly said that the look on Chet's face was priceless. I was kind of sorry I missed it. Rube is pretty good at chewing people out, and when it's not me he's yelling at it's kind of amazing. She said she was quitting too, as soon as she could, and she gave me her cell phone number and we said goodbye.

When I came back out Chet was all pale and sweaty and wouldn't look at me. Rube looked cheerful.

We drove to Der Waffle Haus because Rube wanted some pie. I bitched on the way there about my unemployment.

"How am I supposed to pay for your new transmission now?" I asked Rube.

"You'll figure something out." He didn't look too concerned, and that pissed me off.

"I don't get why you're making such a big fucking deal out of this anyway. I would have been done there in a few weeks."

He didn't even look at me. "Get over it. It's done."

"Don't you remember how long it took me to find that job? And now I have to do it all over again, and now I can't even ask Chet for a reference, thanks to that talk you had with him. I'm back where I started."

"That's life sometimes."

I glared at him. "That's life sometimes? Really? Thanks a lot for that pearl of wisdom, Rube, but that isn't going to help me pay the fucking repair bill."

He told me that he didn't need my smart mouth. He was quiet for a minute and then he said that he'd been thinking that maybe I shouldn't have a job right now anyway.

We pulled up to the diner and got out of the truck. I asked Rube what he was talking about.

"You've got the rest of whatever we call this existence to work. Right now you've got a roof over your head, free meals, no real obligations to speak of. If I was in your shoes I'd be doing something, I don't know, to expand my horizons."

I asked him what he was talking about. We walked inside and sat down at our regular booth. Rube took off his cap and waved it at Casey. It was Kiffany's day off. I don't like Casey. She's suspicious of everything and everyone, but she's especially suspicious of me.

"If you were anyone else I'd say you should travel. Get some culture, meet people, new vistas, new opportunities. But since you're you..." He looked at me like he was trying to figure out what that meant. Like, I was some newly discovered kind of bug and he was trying to figure out which end was my head. "Since you're you, I'd say go to school. Take an art class. Learn a new language. You didn't graduate from high school, did you? Why not go back? You can get your diploma."

Sometimes I really think that Rube is off his fucking rocker.

"Uh, no thanks." I watched Casey come over. She took Rube's order, two pieces of cherry pie and two cups of coffee, and she looked at me suspiciously. Then she walked away.

Rube asked me why not. I said because I was done with all of that. I had absolutely no interest in going back to the daily nine to three and hanging out with asshole teenage boys and bitchy girls with nothing better to do than be mean to each other. Besides, I would have to miss a lot of class to reap my souls, and it just gets too complicated.

"You don't have to go back to school like that. There's an open campus high school downtown. You enroll, you show up for your appointments with the teacher twice a week, and you do your work on your own time."

I didn't know about that. But the idea of having to do homework again did not appeal to me. Casey brought our food over and gave me another dirty look before she put the piece of pie in front of me and walked away again.

"What's the point anyway?" I asked. I poked the pie with my fork. "Astrid can get a high school diploma anytime she wants. She can get a college diploma just as easily. For a few bucks she can get fucking PhD. I knew a reaper who bought double degrees in chemistry and physics and she got a sweet job working at a government lab in Albuquerque."

"That doesn't give me a whole lot of confidence in the safety of those operations," He said between bites. "It's not the credentials I think you'd benefit from. It's the experience. Critical thinking, time management, being exposed to new ideas, finishing something for a change. Don't you want to know what that accomplishment feels like?"

I was mushing up my pie while he talked. "Not really. Besides, I do all those things anyway. I don't need a teacher."

"You're probably right." He sipped his coffee. He looked like he was thinking.

Daisy came into the diner and slid into the booth next to me. She took out a compact and checked her face, then ordered a cup of tea when Casey came by. She'd heard what we were talking about had to offer her stupid fucking opinion on the whole thing, of course, because she's Daisy and she can't not say what she's thinking.

"School would be just wonderful, Jane. I'd go in a heartbeat. Can you imagine how nice it would be? Think of it: A pristine college campus in the fall, the leaves changing and beautiful Gothic architecture. Distinguished looking professors in tweed jackets with leather patches at the elbows, pretty co-eds dressed in sensible pumps, pearls and sweater sets." She wrinkled her nose at me. "I guess that would be you, wouldn't it? Sorry, I can't really see you in pearls."

I told her that it didn't matter because we were talking about high school.

"Oh." Daisy raised her eyebrows. "I don't think I care for that, no."

"Me either."

Rube just shrugged. He said that was the offer, I could either go to school and forget about paying him back or I can start looking for another job. I told him that I was not going to go back to school. He said that I had better start hitting the pavement.

Daisy suddenly said that she knew where I could get a job. She said that a friend of hers who runs a talent agency had just fired their receptionist and that she was looking for someone to answer the phones a few days a week. She said it was really easy and it paid well. Rube asked what was in it for Daisy if I worked there. Daisy said nothing - well, she said, maybe she could get some free head shots if I worked out. I said it sounded pretty good, and Daisy said she'd drive me down there the next day. I think I can sit at a desk and answer a phone without getting into too much trouble.

Then again it's hard to get into trouble at all when Rube is up your ass all the time. When he's not asking me if I'm on drugs he's giving me dirty looks. And he barely talks to me, which makes me wonder why he even makes me stick around here. I have to do all of my reaps with someone else except not with Mason, because Rube still thinks that Mason is an even bigger fuckup than me, if that's possible.

Yesterday George came with me on my reap, which was in someone's front yard in a neighborhood on the west side of Ballard. It was late and neither of us had eaten so we stopped at a 7-11 and bought a bag of marshmallows. We sat under a tree and ate the marshmallows while I was waiting for my mark to come home so I could reap them. George was quieter than normal, and normally she's kind of quiet so she was REALLY quiet. I asked her what was wrong.

"Where did you go? When you took off a few weeks ago."

"I went to Vegas."

"Las Vegas? What the fuck for?"

I said that was where I was from, and I asked her why she wanted to know. She said she always wondered what it would be like to move away, far away from home. I said it had its good points and its bad points. She just nodded like she understood what I was saying.

"I guess the only way I'll ever know what that's like is if I get transferred."

"Fuck up enough and maybe you will."

"Knowing my luck, I'd probably get transferred to East Bumblefuck." She snorted.

"Yeah, that's kind of how it feels..." I noticed her glaring at me and I shrugged. It's not my fault that her town sucks.

"So why'd you run away?"

I said I didn't run away. She said if I didn't run away then how come Rube had to drag me back here.

"No one dragged me back here. If I didn't want to be here, I would leave."

"So why don't you leave?" She looked mad.

I had to think about it for a few seconds before asking her what her fucking problem was, because I didn't want her to get mad and take off and leave me stranded, but finally I decided that I wanted to know what her damage was. So I asked her what her fucking problem was and she said she just wanted to know why I was always so secretive and weird, and I said that I didn't know what she was talking about and just because I don't cry all the time like she does didn't that didn't mean that I was secretive. She didn't look like she liked that.

"So answer the fucking question. Why'd you leave?"

"Are you mad at me?" I asked her.

"No. What do I care if you disappear and never come back?"

She didn't look like she really didn't care. I shrugged and said that I just had some stuff to do down there. A silver car pulled up to the house and I stood up.

"I guess this is my reap." I tried to look at my post-it and come up with some kind of plan, but she kept talking.

"Did you get it done?"

"Huh?"

She threw a marshmallow at me. "Your stuff you had to do. Did you get it done?"

"Yeah, I guess so." I watched the car door open and a confused-looking woman in a trench coat get out. She stared at the two of us. She probably wondered what two girls were doing eating marshmallows in her front yard.

"Just would like to know if you're going to take off again. I don't know if anyone would feel like chasing you all over the country again."

I don't know what her problem is. I don't have time to think about that shit when I'm facing a reap, so I told her that it wouldn't be a problem so we didn't have to talk about it. I don't know if she was mad about that or not. I don't really care.

Not that I want George mad at me. I mean, holy fucking shit, there is nothing worse than George mad at you. I would take a hundred furious Rubes over one angry George any day. She is like, vengeful. And she kicks. I have seen George pissed off at people before, and it is really bad. Uncomfortable. Like right after the whole incident with Mason when he basically OD'd in her car.

She stayed pissed for a while. She was really mad at him, and nothing he said made her change her mind. I remember a few days after the whole thing happened Mason and Rube and I were sitting at the counter at Der Waffle Haus and Mason wouldn't stop complaining about how pissed George was.

"She won't talk to me. She won't give me a ride anywhere. I had to take the bus this morning. Do you know how humiliating that is? The bus. With all of the commuters." He chewed on the end of a straw. He already smelled like booze and it was only eight fifteen in the morning.

He kept whining. "Can't you say anything to her, Rube?"

Rube was eating eggs benedict extra runny, which makes me want to puke. "Nope. Sorry, pal, you're on your own. It wouldn't do any good anyway, George stopped listening to me a long time ago."

"How about you, Janie? She likes you." Mason turned to smile at me, and he was very cute but all I could think about was how he looked in that bathtub, covered in puke. I told him that he was on his own.

Just then George walked in, saw us sitting together and glared at all of us. She walked over to Rube and demanded her post-it. Rube told her to sit down and wait for the others. She huffed, then sat down next to him. Mason got up to sit by her, but she just shoved him off his stool. He ended up sitting next to me again. This made conversation a little awkward because Mason kept asking me to tell George something, and then Rube would get irritated because he couldn't hear what was going on. George just ignored us.

"Janie, please ask Rube to tell George that I'm sorry and I'll make it up to her."

I leaned over to Rube. "Mason says he's sorry and he'll make it up to her."

Rube leaned over to George. "Mason is sorry and he'll make it up to you."

George didn't look up from the menu. "Tell him to go fuck himself."

Rube called down to the end of the counter. "Go fuck yourself!" George smirked.

Mason chewed his straw some more. "Can you please tell her that I just want to talk to her?"

I leaned over to Rube. "Mason says he just wants to talk to her."

Rube finally got annoyed and threw his menu down. "I'm not going to play Chinese telephone with you two, Mason. If you want to talk to George, you talk to George."

"But she'll hit me!"

He was probably right. He gave me a helpless look and ran his hands through his hair, the straw still sticking out of his mouth. Mason asked Rube how he could act like this didn't bother him at all.

"Don't you care that there is a major rift in your band of reapers?"

"Of course I care. Look at me, I'm so upset I'm having trouble finishing my eggs." He said this as he ate his last bite.

Mason just stared at him with a pathetic look on his face. I wished I knew what to say. Once Daisy and Roxy showed up, Rube handed out the post-its. George took hers and left without saying anything to Mason. He looked sad. I felt sorry for him, even though I saw George's side of things too. And it's much better to be on her side than on Mason's, considering that she is a lot meaner.

After Mason dragged himself off, I said that I thought George was being kind of a jerk about everything. Rube glanced at me.

"Don't you think he deserves it for the way he's acted?"

I shrugged. "It seems a little harsh. She's just making him feel bad."

"She's punishing him. Like I punish you when you do something wrong."

I snorted. "When you punish me, it's over with. You don't act like a total asshole to me for days. Usually."

He looked at me like he was surprised. "That's right. I spank you with the slim hope that you won't have to go through what Mason is going through. He creates his own punishments."

I didn't know what he was talking about, as usual, so I asked him what kinds of punishments.

"You remember that woman in the hospital? Mrs..."

"Mrs. Marshall," I said, and I was surprised I could remember.

"Yeah. Mason's on the fast track to that fate, except death isn't going to be quick for him. He's going to lose it a little more every day, and one day he'll be too drunk or stoned to be able to do his job, and the gravelings will have fun torturing him into oblivion."

That is pretty fucking grim, and I said so. I also told Rube that he should do something about it. He said it wasn't his problem, and that was the end of that.


	21. Chapter 21

So I got the job from Daisy's friend. I went in to interview, it was really easy. And it was just like Daisy said it would be. It's a reception job at a talent agency. Everyone seems pretty nice, and the jobs is fucking sweet. It's so easy. All I have to do is sit at a desk and answer the phone and take messages and tell the people who come in to sit down and wait. I don't really have to do any actual work, and I get paid a lot more than I was getting at Trader's. So I'll be able to pay Rube off in a few weeks and then I can pretend that none of this ever happened.

The only thing that I don't like about it is that my new boss wants me to wear make-up and look pretty when I'm at work. So I have to spend some time getting ready, which can be a pain in the ass because I don't always know where I will be or what I will be doing before I go in. I'm just hoping that I don't have to go in spattered in blood any time soon and make up some story about how I spilled my slurpee on the bus like George has had to do for her froo froo office job.

Since I told Rube that I wasn't going back to school, he's gone back to ignoring me all the time. Well, most of the time. If I breathe too loudly he glares at me. And he's convinced that I am on drugs because I still can't really sleep. And when I do sleep, it's at the worst times. Like when Rube's handing out assignments in the morning. I can't count how many times have fallen asleep over somebody's sticky breakfast dishes. Or in the truck on the way to a reap, I fall asleep almost every day when Rube is driving me around. Or in the shower. I fell asleep in there this morning and I only woke up because I slumped over and bumped my head on the tile. Rube didn't say anything when he noticed the bump on my head, but he did give me a funny look. Then he handed me my post-it and left. He didn't tell me where he was going and I didn't ask. We never talk about anything. He just comes and goes and yells at me when we're here at the same time. Reminds me of living with mom.

Before I got the brilliant idea to run off to Vegas, he and I were actually kind of getting along. I think that Mason fucking up so badly and pissing everyone off made me look pretty good by comparison. The routine was comfortable. Even though we spent every moment together, there were a couple of good weeks in there where we barely had any arguments at all and I didn't piss Rube off enough to get punished even once. It was kind of cool.

One morning we had to go to a convention in a hotel downtown. It was some kind of big meeting for companies that made promotional crap to sell to other people at concerts or sporting events or something. I don't know. I don't really care. It's just a good example of how we were getting along and almost liking each other. It was my reap. I had to reap someone named T. Gardner and we got there an hour and a half early so we could wander around and find him. Or her, we thought it might have been a her but it turned out to be a he. Again, I don't really care about that - it's just part of the story to show that we were getting along.

ANYWAY. So we looked around, I found the guy, took his soul by "accidentally" bumping into him, and then we had to wait around for him to bite it. So we walked around the convention hall. It was full of people, really crowded and set up with rows and rows of these collapsible booths that had banners on them. People displayed the stuff they were trying to sell to each other and the convention-goers wandered around eyeballing the merchandise and trying to make deals. It was loud and boring.

Rube tried to get me interested in what was going on by talking about the finer points of selling things. We were standing against the wall of the convention hall, near an exit but within eye shot of my reap, who had his own booth. He was trying to sell a machine that I think was supposed to embroider designs on baseball hats. It wasn't working, and he was trying to fix it. At the moment he was kneeling down in front of it with his face very close to the part that did the actual embroidery. Rube checked his watch and told me that the dude only had four minutes until he died.

"I bet that machine kills him," I said. "I bet it will kick on and sew his face onto a hat, and he'll bleed to death before the ambulance gets here." I saw a flicker out of the corner of my eye that told me the gravelings were already at work on whatever they had planned.

Rube shrugged and said that was too obvious. I asked him what he thought would happen, if he was so smart. He pointed at a nearby booth that had a really, really enthusiastic blonde guy selling promotional t-shirt cannons. The guy was fucking nuts. He was like an infomercial host. He was scaring people by yelling at them, waving them over and then pointing the cannon at them to show how powerful it was.

"Cannon goes off, hits the machine, which starts it. Your reap gets a needle in the face, jumps up, stumbles backward and falls onto that flimsy wooden folding chair behind him. That breaks, your guy gets impaled on a piece of splintered wood, soul pops out, we're on our way."

I rolled my eyes. "Come on. That's way too complicated. You always complicate things."

"I complicate things?" He said. "I don't think so. Not me. You're projecting, kiddo."

I just rolled my eyes again. Rube is so full of shit sometimes. He kept talking.

"No, I believe in simplicity. It's my approach to life." He jerked his head toward the t-shirt cannon man. "Take him, for example. He's got his approach all wrong. He's trying too hard to impress. He's fucking up the gears of commerce, taking a simple exchange of goods for money and turning it into a circus act."

I watched the man show how light the cannon was and how easy to operate by twirling it over his head, pretending to fire it in all directions. Shoppers took cover. I said he was just trying to make money.

"He's not going to have much success that way," Rube answered. "The trick is to draw the customer in. It doesn't matter what you're selling. He's too busy showing off the merchandise. Hell, the merchandise could be shit in a box and he could still move it if he knew how to sell."

I laughed. Shit in a box.

Rube said that sales is totally psychological, and as a salesman you have to sell yourself. Sell your story. Sell the desire and the urgency for the customer to have what you have, and you've got it made.

I asked how he knew that.

"I used to be a pitch man. Didn't I tell you that? I don't mind telling you that I was great at it, too. I could sell anything."

"What kinds of things did you sell?"

He listed them in a bored tone of voice. "I sold hair tonic, furniture, cars, ladies' underwear, mousetraps, bibles, ah... what else? Everything. Anything that wasn't bolted down. I could make a man buy the shoes he was wearing and thank me for the privilege."

"Sounds like a con," I said. I was actually thinking it sounded like a pretty sweet way to make money.

Rube shrugged. "In a sense. Probably. I wasn't dishonest. I always told the customer exactly what they were buying. Whether or not the listened, well, that wasn't up to me."

I asked Rube to show me a few of his sales techniques, and he gave me that look like he was trying to figure me out. He said maybe later and pointed at my reap. Something was about to happen.

We were both kind of right about how T. Gardner would bite it. He was still kneeling down over his machine, trying to get it started, while in the next booth the blonde cannon man was showing a prospective customer how to load the thing. He picked it up and it accidentally went off, aimed right at T. Gardner's booth. At the same moment, T. Gardner decided to stand up. He got hit in the face with a tightly rolled up t-shirt flying at about 120 miles per hour. He stumbled backward, tripped and hit his head on the edge of the chair on the way down. It didn't break but it flipped over onto his face as he fell on his back.

Some people laughed, but that stopped when he didn't get up. Rube, T. Gardner's soul and I watched as a crowd of people gathered around his body. Someone had lifted the chair off of him and was trying CPR.

"That's me!" T. Gardner said, kind of surprised.

I nodded.

"But I can't be dead!" He said. "I'm not even bleeding or anything! It didn't even hurt!"

"You'd be surprised what can kill you." I said. I remembered the old lady I reaped in Vegas who got a nail gun to the back of the head and there was almost no blood. She just looked like she died of heart failure or whatever it is that old people die from, slumped over in a patio chair. No one would have even looked if I hadn't yanked out a bunch of her hair on my way out. I wonder sometimes if that's why I got transferred. If I did something like that now and Rube found out, he'd probably put his foot up my ass. Then again, I did a lot worse things in Vegas than that before getting transferred. So I guess it's a mystery.

Rube led T. Gardner away from the scene, explaining that head injuries are unpredictable. Someone could fall off a bike, hit his head and die. Someone else could fall off a bike in the same conditions, hit his head and walk away with nothing but a bump. That might be true, but it's not very comforting.

T. Gardner was very surprised but not really upset. His lights came quickly - a single engine propeller plane swooped down and took him away.

Then Rube surprised me by saying that we didn't have anything else to do, why don't we go back inside and look around? He'll show me a few of his sales tricks.

This cheered me up. It was awesome. Rube can charm the pants off anyone, he is so smooth. He had those salespeople eating out of the palm of his hand. One second they were trying to sell us something, and the next they thought they needed something from us. Rube showed me how to read someone cold - how to size them up without knowing anything about them, who is likely to buy something and who will need a lot of persuasion to part with their money. He also showed me how to draw customers in by telling them stories about yourself or what you were trying to sell. By the end of the afternoon, he had a job offer from the director of sales at some events company.

Rube was happy because he thought he taught me something about people. He was also probably relieved that I was too busy to get into any shenanigans. I was happy because I learned some tricks I could use to maybe scam someone or at least make my job easier. And it was nice that Rube wasn't yelling at me or mad at me. He was talking to me like a normal person, like he thought maybe we were friends.

That all changed that night.

I didn't do anything wrong. We were at Der Waffle Haus eating dinner by ourselves. Blue plate special - meatloaf. Gag. I was tired of scraping the mashed potatoes around on my plate.

I told Rube that I needed cigarettes. I asked if I could go across the street to the gas station and get some, and he gave me that look like he was trying to bore into my brain with his eyes. All squinty. Then he said okay, but that he'd be watching me from the window and I had better not do anything stupid. Just go, buy the cigarettes and come back. Got it? I said I got it and left.

Everything was fine and I wasn't thinking about anything except getting some cigarettes and chain smoking them. I went inside, bought my pack of smokes, and looked around some more at the junk they had for sale. I wasn't that interested in going back to the greasy diner and Rube's constant smothering presence so I took my time. I knew he was watching the door from his seat in the diner across the street, just waiting for me to come out.

I was just browsing when I saw the pay phone at the back of the store. I hadn't seen a pay phone in years. It was surprising. I went over to it to check for forgotten change. I didn't find any, but I did find a phone card. It was one of those cards that you buy from a display at the checkout line at places like that gas station, bilingual with international rates printed all over the front. It looked like someone forgot to throw it away. I almost turned and walked away, but then I reconsidered and I decided to see if there were any more minutes left on it.  
I had some loose change, so I used it to call the 800 number to check the balance. I was surprised because the electronic voice said that there was 17 minutes left. I looked around to see if anyone was coming to find their lost phone card, but I didn't see anyone. I was the only one in the store, besides the cashier. And he wasn't paying attention. Then I did something really, really stupid. I used the card to call home.

Not my mom's house. I didn't want to talk to her. I called Santos.

I don't know why I did that. I guess I was homesick, although that's a dumb excuse. I'd had a little time to think about the money he'd sent. I did want to know why he sent it. I hoped he was going to say that he wanted me to buy a plane ticket and visit him. Or that he was thinking about me and wanted to make sure I had everything I needed. I must have been absolutely fucking delusional. If Santos had wanted to tell me why he sent that money, he would have. He just wanted to fuck with me.

The phone rang, and he answered the way he always answers his cell phone when he doesn't know who's calling. "Who is this?"

"Ben? It's Jane."

He was quiet for a few seconds, and then he said that he'd been trying to call me. I told him that I lost my phone, and he said that's what Brook told him. Then he said that he expected to hear from me after he sent me money. I said that I couldn't call him earlier because of the accident, and my boss being an asshole.

He sounded like he didn't believe me. I don't know why, but I felt incredibly guilty.

"Brook said your boss was a prick to him."

I was nervous and I tried to laugh. "Kind of."

"You having fun out there?"

"I guess." Silence.

"That's good. I'm glad. You have a good time. You finding the good parties? Meeting a lot of guys?" Shit. I said the wrong thing. There was a nasty edge to his voice.

"No, that's not what I meant."

"That's what you said. You're having a good time. It's okay, I'm not surprised. You've always done what you want without thinking about anyone else."

"What are you talking about? Are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you. You just disappoint me. I thought we were having fun. More than that. I thought you were special."

"We were having fun!" I guess I was talking kind of loud, because when I looked around the cashier behind the glass was glaring at me. I lowered my voice. "But I'm here now, and we didn't promise anything when I left."

"We didn't?"

I was confused and I couldn't think of anything else to say. All I could do was listen as he told me how much I disappointed him, how I was stupid and shallow and a lying cheating bitch and he couldn't trust me to be faithful, how he thought he loved me, and on and on. It was too overwhelming. I never knew what Santos was going to come up with next, and I wasn't sure when he was telling the truth or not. I shut my eyes and I could feel some tears squeezing out.

He hung up on me before I could say anything else. The electronic voice told me that I had fourteen minutes left. The whole thing had only taken three minutes. I put the receiver back and put the phone card back where I found it. When I turned around, Rube was leaning against a display of beef jerky looking at me. I jumped.

"Jesus Fucking Christ! Don't sneak up on me!"

"Don't give me a reason to sneak. Who were you talking to?"

"No one," I lied. I found a phone card and I was checking to see if there were any minutes left."

"Why are you crying?"

I said I wasn't crying. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Did you get what you came in for?"

I guessed he meant cigarettes. I shrugged.

We didn't talk again until we were in the truck and on our way back to his apartment. I stared out the window and tried not to cry again. It's so embarrassing. I hate crying, especially over something stupid like talking on the phone. I don't even know why I was crying - I hated myself for doing it, because I knew that's what Santos wanted. I knew that he was just fucking with me. I knew that he was lying when he said that all of that stuff about how I was a horrible person.

But what if he wasn't? He should know me better than anyone. We slept in the same bed for six months.

"I want you to think about something," Rube suddenly said. He was still driving and I could tell he wasn't looking at me, which was fine because I wasn't looking at him either.

"Remember earlier today, how I showed you how to sell? Well, those were the basics. Sometimes people get so advanced - so good at selling that they can sell you something without you even knowing."

I didn't feel like any of his philosophical lessons so I snapped at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You said it yourself, earlier. You should know when you're being conned. You know what I see when I look at you?"

I couldn't think of anything to say, and he wouldn't have listened anyway.

"I see a strong girl. Smart too. Maybe a little easily influenced, too stubborn for her own good, but someone who knows her own mind." He paused. I guess it was for dramatic effect.

"You should know your own worth, too."

I didn't know what he was trying to tell me. I was pissed, and confused and my head hurt. "Just leave me alone, okay? I don't feel like it tonight. You can lecture me again tomorrow."

But he didn't. He was silent the rest of the way back to the apartment, and he didn't talk to me when we got there. I didn't get in trouble and I didn't get the rest of his lecture, whatever he was going to say. I went straight to my room and laid down in the dark. I didn't sleep all night. 


	22. Chapter 22

I haven't written in this thing in three days. When we sat down this morning in our booth at Der Waffle Haus, Rube took this notebook out of his jacket and tossed it across the table at me. I was surprised to see it out in the real world and not shoved behind the dresser where I left it. Luckily we were the only two there and I didn't have to explain the notebook to anyone.

Rube looked at me with an expectant look on his face.

"What?" I said. "What is this about?" I grabbed the book and hid it in my lap.

"Why'd you stop writing?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Ran out of things to write about."

He chuckled. "That is bullshit. You're just getting to the good part."

"The good part?"

"The part where you finally explain what the fuck you were thinking when you stole my truck and drove it to Nevada."

I wasn't really thinking about it like that. So not only is Rube actually paying attention, he has some kind of plan for me that I'm not living up to. Surprise. I'm disappointing when I don't even know I'm being disappointing.

I told him I didn't really feel like writing about that. He told me that was tough shit and I didn't get to pick and choose which of his instructions I follow. I said he told me to write my life story and that's what I was doing, writing the way I wanted, and if he didn't like it he didn't have to read it.

The he got a weird look on his face like he was trying to figure something out. Like he was trying to figure me out. He said that I would still write whether or not I wanted to or whether or not he wanted me to, and whether or not anyone read it. He said that it was a compulsion of mine, to tell the story. I wasn't sure what he was talking about and told him so.

Then he just kind of threw his hands up and said okay, you don't write. See how long that lasts. Then Kiffany came over and we ordered breakfast. It was the longest conversation we've had in days. Obviously, since I'm writing right now Rube will think that he was right. But he'd think he was right even if I never wrote another word.

The other reapers came and we ate breakfast, then Rube gave everyone their post-its and he dropped me off at the apartment. I can just imagine the satisfaction he's getting by reading this, but believe it or not it's not really about him.

I got a new phone. I got it myself, from a kiosk at the mall on my lunch break. It's nothing fancy and Rube just raised his eyebrows at me when he saw it. I only have a couple of phone numbers in there – Rube, Daisy, Mason and George, of course. Not Roxy. She wouldn't give me her number, said it was private. Whatever. Work. And Holly.

Running into Holly again was weird. She apparently really meant it when she told me to call her. It wasn't a kiss off like it normally is when someone tells you to call you: "Call me!" might as well be code for "drop dead". Anyway, I saw her at the mall when I went to buy my phone and she happened to be trying on sunglasses at a nearby cart.

"Astrid!" She said, all surprised, and almost didn't respond. I'm still not used to that stupid fucking name.

"Hey, Astrid!" She kept calling until I looked up and there she was, looking genuinely happy to see me. She told me that she got a job in the mall working at the CD Hut. I told her about my new job and she seemed impressed.

"Oh, I have to tell you about what happened to Chet!" She said, all excited. I am always up for some good gossip, so I made my interested face and listened.

"I heard this from Jeremy, you know, he worked inventory? Anyway. He told me that Chet got in a FIGHT with a customer! A real, actual fight! Some chick in a Lexus dinged his Acura and they got into it in the parking lot. Punches and kicking and BITING! He was gone the next day. Corporate sent someone in to take over things while they hired a new manager. I am so bummed that I missed it. Apparently he got pretty messed up. This chick was like a brown belt in karate or judo or some shit!"

I was sorry I missed it too. I still kind of wish I had been the one to mess the guy up. Slimeball.

She wanted to keep in touch so she got my new number and I put hers in my new phone. She told me that the film company she sometimes does extra work for was shooting a new movie in the next week and I should come along with her on the casting call on Saturday. They were filming a zombie movie and needed undead people. I tried to keep a straight face and told her that I thought I could probably handle playing a member of the undead hordes. It sounds like fun. I really like horror movies and I've never heard of this company before, so it'll be interesting. I hope I won't have any reaps in the middle of the day on Saturday. Rube will probably see I'm interested in something that's not completely boring and fix it so I have to be 50 miles away in Bumblefuck reaping a bus of Jehovah's Witnesses.

What else? I got a new shirt for work. Daisy took me shopping and told me the green button up shirt I ended up buying complemented my eyes. That was weirdly nice. She's being super nice to me since she helped me get this new job, which is weird. You'd think that she would expect some favor from me since she helped me but it's almost like she's bending over backwards to make things as easy as possible for me. Like she's driven me to work twice this week. She said she just wants to make sure I don't fuck up. That's probably the truth.

I'm stalling.

I still really don't want to write about leaving for Las Vegas. Besides, Rube is ignoring something that happened before that, something I haven't covered yet either and that he's probably blocked out if he hasn't mentioned it yet. I wasn't going to write about this either but since he insists that I do things in order then here it is:

Mason and I kissed.

We haven't talked about it. Mason and me, Rube and me. It happened and there was a shitstorm and no one's brought it up since, even though at the time you would have thought we got caught fucking his grandma, the way Rube reacted. Now there's an image for you. Sorry.

It was right after I'd called home and talked to Santos and I wasn't feeling too great myself, someone fucking with your head can do that to you. I can't really describe the way Rube was treating me at the time. It was almost like I was made of glass, like he was afraid of me breaking. If I had to describe it, I would say he was being gentle. He was still watching me like a hawk but he didn't make the smartass remarks anymore and he was really considerate about stuff. Like he let me sleep in a little later and he let me order ice cream for breakfast even though I knew that it made him crazy. To tell the truth, it annoyed the shit out of me.

I already felt trapped and now knowing what Santos thought of me… I felt bad enough, and Rube's gentle fucking kindness was starting to grate on me. Rubbing it in. I wasn't so delicate that he needed to tiptoe around and avoid saying all the mean shit I knew he was thinking. I could see where this was going: he thought he was being nice, but any second the pressure was going to become too much and his head would explode. I guess that's kind of what happened when he found us. Kissing. And doing other stuff.

Rube had left me at the apartment that day, a few days after I called home and got turned inside out by Santos. That's what it felt like anyway, like all my insides were now on the outside and it hurt to be touched.

He said he had some business to take care of and that I was to stay in the apartment until he got back. He gave me a time. I said okay. I really wasn't planning to go anywhere or do anything except maybe watch tv and eat all the black jelly beans out of the candy jar, which I knew drove him crazy.

I was just settling down to a PBS documentary about sharks – they're fucking badass, by the way – when there was a knock on the door. I wasn't sure what to do. So I didn't do anything.

Here's the thing: I knew it was probably one of the other reapers or the person who sticks the assignments under Rube's door. I've heard him talking to whoever it is at the door when I'm in bed and supposed to be asleep. Either way, I really didn't want to answer the door. Turns out I didn't have to. A few clicks and the door swung open, and Mason stood there holding his lock picking gear. He looked surprised to see me in my pajamas, slumped in Rube's armchair eating jellybeans in the middle of the day.

I was surprised to see him too. I think I asked him what the fuck he was doing there.

He said, "So the rumors are true! You're living here?" He stepped inside and closed the door.

I said yes, and Rube wasn't here. He said he just came to pick some stuff up and went over to Rube's desk and started to rifle through the drawers. I felt strangely protective.

"Hey." I said. "What are you doing?"

I just realized that Rube probably didn't know that Mason was going through his stuff. Whoops. He does now. In any case, Mason didn't find what he was looking for. I watched him and after a minute he gave up and sat on the edge of the desk smirking at me.

"So what's it like living with our Rube?" He asked.

I shrugged. "About what you'd think it's like, I guess. It sucks."

He just kept smiling at me. "Looks like a sweet deal to me."

"What are you doing here, Mason? I don't think Rube would like this." It turns out I was right.

He came over to me and grabbed a handful of jelly beans. He picked out the red ones and put the rest back in the jar. He asked me when Rube was coming back and I told him, and he said that he was cool waiting. I gave up trying to get him to leave at that point. For all I knew Rube was expecting to come home and find Mason waiting for him. It turns out he wasn't, but I didn't know at the time that things were going to happen the way they did.

This was when George was still pissed at Mason, and I could tell it was getting to him. He looked tired. I mean, he lived with the girl, there was no way for him to escape her constant anger – being around George when she's mad is so exhausting. I heard a term once for people like that – emo. She's definitely emo.

I felt sorry for him. Maybe that's why I let him stay and hang out. Maybe I could see he was sad and lonely, and I felt kind of sad and lonely too. Not terribly sad and lonely, not like I was crying about it. But like I said, I was inside out and it felt good to be around someone who understood. I thought Mason understood.

So we just sat and watched the show about sharks and ate candy. Mason had a joint in his pocket and he smoked it. I'm sure Rube will be happy to know that I didn't touch it – I wasn't going to risk getting caught with that shit after what happened last time. He also had a flask, and we offered me a drink. It was just awful, like paint thinner. I told him that and he said that he thought Rube had some better stuff hidden away. He got up and went exploring, and I got that weird feeling again. It was watching him open cabinet doors and move things around and I felt almost territorial. And then I thought, fuck that shit, this isn't my house so what do I care?

He finally found a bottle of some brown liquor, knowing Rube it was probably an old lady liquor like sherry or brandy. Mason drank straight from the bottle and approved. We passed the bottle back and forth and talked about nothing. At one point I asked Mason why he wanted to hang out with me.

"Why not? You're a cool girl, Janie."

I got a weird rush at that. A cute boy called me cool. Okay, it was Mason but he's cute enough when his mouth is shut. Here's the thing about Mason: He is cute, but there's more. He's charming. When he's sober and knows what he's doing, he can literally charm the pants off someone. He wasn't sober then, so I don't know what my excuse was. Maybe it's just like I said, I was sad. Then he opened his mouth again and ruined the moment.

"It's not your fault that you're Rube's butt boy."

Nice. I said that I was no such thing. I am still not really sure what that was supposed to mean.

Mason wasn't really paying attention to me at that point. He had discovered Rube's turntable and his record cabinet and he was going through the records, commenting on all the bands. He found one he liked and put it on to play.

"Check this out," he said. "Velvet Underground. I had no idea Rube was so hip."

I said I had no idea anyone said "hip" anymore.

"What's Velvet Underground?" I asked and Mason looked like he was in pain.

"Oh Janie, you have to know the Velvet Underground. Lou Reed? Satellite of Love?"

I shook my head. I was laying on the floor with my head in my hands watching him.

The music came on and Mason started swaying. He saw me smirking at that and made a face. Then he started actually dancing. I laughed. He kept dancing and he looked like that one weird lone guy at the front of the crowd during a concert, the one who dances by himself while all the girls who got to the front dance with each other.

"That's it, you're dancing with me." He pulled me up and I told him I really couldn't dance. He told me just to follow him. He showed me how to do a dance called the shag and another one called the monkey. Apparently they were popular in the sixties. They both looked ridiculous, but I guess no more ridiculous than the dances we have today. Actually, now that I think about it people don't really dance dances anymore. They just kind of move around to music.

Another song came on and Mason got excited. He turned up the volume really loud and yelled over the guitar intro that this was my song, come on, and he grabbed me by the hands and made me dance with him. I didn't understand until the chorus.

Sweet Jane  
Sweet Jane  
Sweet Jane

I'd heard this song before, by the Cowboy Junkies. It sounded different by the Velvet Underground. The lead singer sounded kind of like Bob Dylan. Mason sang along really loud.

And, everyone who ever had a heart  
They wouldn't turn around and break it  
And anyone who ever played a part  
Oh wouldn't turn around and hate it

I think those are the lyrics anyway.

The song was over. It was a record of a live concert, and I thought Mason was going to start applauding along with the audience. I joked that nobody would ever call me Sweet Jane, and Mason shook his head.

"Of course they would. You're really a very sweet girl, Janie. Pretty. Nice."

I don't know why, but I kissed him. I kissed him and he looked shocked. Then he kissed me back and we kissed each other for a few minutes.

It was surprising, but nice. I hadn't felt like kissing anyone in months.

We ended up in my room, both trying to squeeze onto the bed without falling off and still kissing. I watched Mason sit up and eagerly strip off his jacket and shirt, kick off his shoes and try to wriggle out of his pants. It was impressive how quickly he was able to get out of his clothes. I started to unbutton my pajama shirt. The music was still playing in the living room and it was loud and we were distracted by each other and we didn't notice Rube standing in the doorway until he spoke.

Well, I say spoke. More like barked.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

I thought about asking why he was back so soon – he was early. I didn't.

Mason fell off the bed and tried to get to his feet, but his pants were still hanging from one ankle and he tripped.

"What did I tell you, Mason?" Rube was furious. "Didn't I tell you not to come sniffing around here?"

I wasn't sure what that meant, but I didn't like it. It made me feel dirty. I buttoned my shirt back up and sat up. "Hey," I said. "I started it."

Rube looked at me like he wanted to kill me. "Shut up. Mason?"

Mason was still trying to get his pants up.

Rube grunted. "Fuck this shit." He turned and walked back down the hallway.

"Hey!" I yelled after him. "Where are you going?"

He called back down the hall. "I'm going to get my gun."

Mason looked at me and all the color was gone from his face. He'd managed to get his pants up and was searching for his shirt and jacket. "Shit. Shit. He's going to shoot me!"

"He's probably going to shoot both of us," I said, and I believed it. I watched him scramble to get dressed. He put his shirt on inside out and Rube reappeared holding a real, actual gun. I don't know what kind – I don't know anything about guns. It was a handgun, I knew that. He grabbed Mason by the collar and dragged him out the door and into the living room. I hopped off the bed and grabbed Mason's shoes and jacket, and ran after them.

I yelled for Rube to wait and he turned and SNARLED at me to go back to my room. I mean, actually snarled. No one had ever snarled at me before.

"His shoes…" I held the pile of clothes up. Rube stood by the front door dangling Mason by his collar and waving his gun around with the other hand. He ignored me.

"Seventeen, Mason. She's seventeen." Rube said, and Mason tried to babble something about not knowing that, but I know he knew that I was seventeen. He just didn't give a shit. That's Mason for you, class all the way.

"It doesn't fucking matter!" I yelled. It really doesn't matter to anyone in the world except him, I guess. Rube cocked the gun and held it to Mason's head. "Rube, stop! Stop being such an asshole!"

Rube looked at me. "I'm being an asshole. Me. I'm the asshole?" He made a face like he couldn't believe that I said such a thing.

"I leave you alone for a few hours and I come back to…" He searched for the words he wanted. "This debauchery among MY reapers in MY house, and I'm the asshole."

Mason whimpered. "I don't think you're an asshole, Ruby. I think you're lovely."

Rube gave him a disgusted look. He opened the front door and shoved him out, then slammed and locked it. He un-cocked (or whatever it's called) the gun and crossed the room to sit at his desk. He put the gun on the desk and put his head in his hands.

I started to say something and Rube interrupted me.

"Don't talk to me for a while, okay?" His voice wasn't normal. There was a simmering anger there.

"But what about his clothes?" I said. "Can I give him his clothes?"

Rube suddenly stood up again, took a few steps to me and took the pile of clothes and shoes out of my arms. He went to a window, opened it and threw everything outside, slammed the window shut and went back to his seat at the desk. I went to the window and saw Mason's shoes and jacket scattered over the sidewalk below.

And that was it. We didn't talk about it. I ran off to Vegas not too long after that and I guess that was worse than almost hooking up with Mason because it's like it never happened and all Rube can talk about is me running away and ruining his truck. Mason was embarrassed for a little while, but he never talked about it to me. He also never tried anything again.

I am not sure why it bothered Rube so much, but I have a theory. He thinks that I'm really seventeen, that I should act like a normal seventeen year old and normal seventeen year olds don't hook up with grim reapers who died forty years ago. He doesn't think it's normal, and he desperately wants this situation to be as normal as possible. It's kind of pathetic, because it's never going to be anything but fucked up. The sooner he just accepts that fact and deals with it, the better off we'll all be.

Of course, Rube, we could always have it out if you want to tell me what you're actually thinking. I'm ready whenever you are.

The only good thing that came out of that incident is that Rube stopped tiptoeing around and started treating me like shit again – making me wake up insanely early and criticizing everything I ate, that kind of thing. He keeps that gun cleaned and oiled and loaded in his bedside drawer. I guess that's good to know.


End file.
